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venusiangguk · 3 years

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gold rush pt. 3 | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader

>>genre: pwp, v little plot, smut, kinda fluffy, college au (kinda), established relationship

>>word count: 9.9k um?

>>warnings: pegging!!!, butt stuff!!!, sexy anal!!!, sub jk, soft dom oc, crying why do i always make everyone cry, fingering (m), strap on, dildos, vibrators, sex toys, sex shop adventures, explicit sex, like so explicit this bitch is basically 10k, mutual masturbation, coming untouched, kisses, aftercare in the form of snacks, titty squeezing, dirty talk, excessive use of pet names, yoongi exists

>>notes: i wasn’t gonna write this bc ur girl does not know the first thing about pegging, but jk sucking the strap came to me in a dream and i had to do it. it was highly requested so i hope u like it! i wrote and poorly edited this whole thing today so im sorry for any mistakes !!

>>summary: jk wants the strap, and jk gets what he wants !!

pt.1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

The sun is shining, and there’s just the perfect amount of breeze to cool Jeongguk as sweat runs down his temple. The soccer pitch just got cut, making the ball much easier to control, and therefore much easier to aim at Jimin’s ass. It’s cool-down time, so the team is in groups of three, idly kicking the ball between each other, for the last few minutes of practice. All in all, a great day to talk about getting pegged with his best friends.

Jeongguk glances around the field, making sure the other groups are far enough away from him and his friends before clearing his throat. “So… do you guys like… get pegged?”

When Taehyung passes the ball to Jimin, Jimin completely misses it due to the fact that he is looking at Jeongguk like he is the most pitiful human on the planet. Jeongguk adjusts his shin guard to avoid the scrutiny.

“Gguk… honey… are you dumb?”

Taehyung’s jogging back after retrieving the ball that ran astray. “No, Mini. He’s straight.” He kicks the ball to Jeongguk. “If by ‘pegged’ you mean fucked in the ass by a real dick, then yeah. We do.”

Jeongguk receives the ball with a ‘rainbow’ and juggles it from his thigh to his laces, balancing the ball for a second before kicking it to Jimin. He nods, contemplative. “Nice.”

“Okay ace.” He passes to Taehyung, before throwing Jeongguk a teasing look. “You thinking about taking it up the ass, Gukkie?”

“Perhaps I’m contemplating.” He sniffs nose in the air.

Taehyung laughs. “Got your button milked once and now you wanna take a phallic shaped object? Proud of you.” He places his hand over his heart, like the mere thought of Jeongguk getting railed makes his heart warm.

A whistle blows, and Jeongguk kicks the ball up to his arm, tucking it into the curve of his trim waist. “Why does everyone call it a button? And it hasn’t only been once.” He sounds exasperated and so so tired.

His friends jog to bump shoulders with him as they make their way to the locker rooms. “Hey, jokes aside, I think it’s cool you’re like comfortable enough, or whatever, with __ to explore the things you like.” Taehyung says.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Okay Dad.”

“No seriously!” Jimin insists, holding the locker room door open for them. Fuck the rest of the team. “She seems good for you. Babys you like you need.” Jimin laughs.

Jeongguk’s shirt gets caught on his head as he squawks. “I don’t just like being babied, fuck you.”

“Okay so she also entertains your sadistic side. She’s the full package.”

Jeongguk looks down with a blush. He shrugs his shoulders lightly before bending over to get out of his gear. “She’s pretty cool I guess.”

Taehyung knees him while he’s still bent over making him stumble a bit. “Awe, Jeonggukkie is in love.”

“Shut up.” Jeongguk smacks him in the face with his smelly sock.

“When you gonna do it?” Jimin asks, buttoning his new pants.

Apparently they aren’t showering today. Jeongguk will just have to stop at his dorm before heading to yours to help you study. That reminds him that you have a test on Friday, but are free this weekend. He just so happens to be free as well. The team they were supposed to play had to forfeit because their coach got caught sleeping with one of the cheerleaders. Sucks, but good for Jeongguk and his little asshole.

“Maybe this weekend.” With their backpacks on, they start the trek back to the dorms. It’s nearing night now, the sun just starting to set in the sky. Jeongguk pulls out his phone to tell you he’s stopping by his place before heading to you. You reply quickly.

baby🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:

okie

wanna have sex instead of helping me study

me:

yeah but im not gonna

just think about how good the sex will be when u get an a

baby🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:

🙄

When Jeongguk pockets his phone, Taehyung speaks up.

“You think she’ll be down?”

Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, probably.”

Ever since the first time you made him cum untouched, butt stuff has been a moderately regular occurrence for you both as a long-term, healthy, pro-ass eating couple. Honestly it was mostly him getting his butt played with, but he supposed it made sense. Like Jimin explained to his once naïve self, it was just biological- or something. Whatever. He wonders if three fingers will be enough to fit a fake dick in his ass. He asks his friends.

“Eh…” Jimin starts, looking up like he’s thinking. “Maybe, but you might wanna try to get to four, maybe five if you're using hers, since she’s tiny.”

Jeongguk’s mouth falls open and he pales. Taehyung notices and laughs.

“Don’t get scared. It’s just better to over-prep than under-prep. And like obviously you work up to it, she’s not just gonna shove her fist or her cock up your ass.”

Her cock. A little tingle settles in Jeongguk’s lower belly at the statement. He’s been thinking about this for a while, looking at porn in his free time. Seeing the way the guys moan on their girls’ strap always gets him hard. Seeing how hard their cocks get when the toy hits them just right. He throbs when he sees the guys cum just from the strap, no hands. Maybe he should fuck you when he gets to your dorm instead of helping you study. His cock is feeling a little plump.

“Alright well… Bye, thanks for being gay and answering my anal questions!”

As he’s pressing the button to his elevator, they lived on opposite sides of the athlete dorm and there were different elevators for each of the wings, Jimin chirps, “Don’t forget to empty your asshole really well, and don’t eat the day of! Also buy extra lube and put a spare blanket down!”

Jeongguk winces. Valuable information indeed, information he mentally pockets, but did he need to yell it in the dorm common room?

“Noted!” He yells back at the elevator dings and opens up. Jeongguk pretends like he doesn’t meet the curious, kind of confused gaze of one of his teammates. He must have walked in while Jimin was yelling and only caught the end of the conversation while waiting for the same elevator. Jeongguk gets in and immediately closes the doors. He can catch the next lift.

~~~

Jeongguk’s got his head in your lap and you’re running your fingers through his long, silky hair. He showered today, so waves of his aromatherapy lavender shampoo are wafting up to you. Sweet boy. He seems sidetracked, occasionally sighing and subtly twisting, but is still more or less purring on your thigh, feet tucked up onto the cushion of the couch. Netflix is on the small tv that was left by the last person who lived there, you’re mac book connected via HDMI. You’re not really paying attention. Mind kind of tired from all the studying you had done this week. Jeongguk fidgets a tiny bit again, wiggling like he’s trying to get comfortable. He huffs a sigh.

“Hey,” You say softly, getting his attention.

His body curves at the waist, causing his t-shirt to bunch up and show off the dip of his hip bone. He looks up at you with wide eyes. He seems surprisingly awake. Must have some busy little bees buzzing around his mind. He makes a little questioning noise.

“You okay? You’re kinda fussy.” You murmur.

He groans. “I- am just thinking.”

“About?” You drag the word out in a singsong-y manner.

The way Jeongguk’s face flushes is so pretty, you have to stop yourself from cooing.

He moves himself from your lap and sits facing you. He looks like he's thinking about what to say, or how to say what he’s thinking so hard about.

Eloquently he states, “I’m horny.”

You glance at his cock. Not quite hard, but a little happy and excited. You chuckle, leaning towards him, giving him a playfully sexy look. “Okay, let’s fuck baby.”

Jeongguk blushes even more, cheeks tinted red, while he leans away from you.

You pout. “What?”

Again he pauses, a small pout on his lips. He seems to be in a soft, needy, difficult mood. You’re probably going to have to pry what he wants to say out of his mouth.

With another uncalled for exasperated huff, Jeongguk rolls his eyes and moves closer to you before catching you by surprise and swinging a leg over your lap. He’s facing you while he straddles your thighs. His arms are looped around your neck, he’s playing with a little bit of your hair, twirling the long length around his fingers. You smile up at him, gently. Your palms squeeze at his narrow hips encouragingly.

“I want to try something new…” He says. He sounds nervous and looks at you the same.

“Mhmm.” You say, fighting a smile.

“Really bad. Like I want it really bad.” His hips roll, probably unconsciously from the way he closes his eyes to ground himself.

You peek at his lap, and his cock is bulging, the fabric of his sweatpants doing nothing to help hide it. You bring your hand to it, and massage him through his pants.

He whines and pushes against your palm before a hand comes down and grabs your wrist, stopping the movement. “Quit it, I’m trying to talk.” He’s so petulant and whiny.

You move your hand away and place it back on his hip, giggling a little. “Well spit it out, then.”

He scowls. You reach up and smooth the wrinkle in his brow before trailing it down and cupping his cheek. He softens immediately, melts like butter in your hands. His eyes close and he lets out a soft sigh, body relaxing a little.

He’s whispering, kinda giggling out of embarrassment, when he says, “I want you to fuck me.” He pauses, peeking at you through his lashes. “Like for real.”

Almost instantly a little spark ignites in your belly, and you feel your pussy get that telltale heartbeat. You didn’t want to push Jeongguk into anything, but you’ve been thinking about taking the ‘next step’ with your… ass-plorations for some time. But you figured he would get to the same point on his own, and would come to you when he was ready. Turns out you know him as well as you thought you did.

“Yeah?” You rub your free hand up his side.

He nods quickly, eagerly. You pinch his cheek lightly, and he retaliates by trying to bite at it. To avoid the attack it finds his way back to his waist.

“When did you want to? Tonight?”

He wiggles impossibly closer to you. Kisses you quick before nodding again. “Yeah. I um. I already like prepped… mostly. I prepped what I could by myself.” He pauses with a cute thinking face. “You will probably have to help me a little. But yeah. I got ready for you just in case.” He nods.

You hum, glancing at the old clock on the wall, another gift from the prior tenant. 11:52 pm.

“If we hurry, we can make it to a sex shop? They don’t usually close until 2 or 3 in the morning.” You suggest.

Jeongguk bites his lip, smiling excitedly. “Really? Can we?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yeah, duh.” You lean up and give him a speedy, but thorough kiss, smiling into it. “Been wanting to peg you for so long.”

His face scrunches endearingly. “Don’t call it that.”

He hops off your lap, and goes to grab the keys, wasting no time. He stands by the door expectantly. His cock is, extremely obviously, sticking out. Someone didn’t wear his briefs today.

“Can you like… kill that?” You’re laughing as you tug on some sweats of your own, having only been lounging in your panties and one of his shirts. Your usual at home attire.

He looks down, and has a smug grin on his face when he looks at you again. “It’ll go down in the car. Hurry up!”

~~~

A dildo looks so much bigger when one is looking at it knowing that it will be inside of them within the next few hours. And there are so many options and colors. Some vibrate, some have fake pubic hair on them. Some have balls that are squishy and feel eerily… accurate.

Jeongguk isn’t having second thoughts, no. But he is having thoughts. Very overwhelming thoughts.

You’re next to your boyfriend, glancing between him and the varying selection of fake cocks displayed in front of you both, trying to gauge his reaction. He looks a little pale, but tentatively excited. Curious at the very least.

“Which one do you want?” You ask.

“No idea.” He responds, eyes wide.

Like most store clerks, one shows up, almost like they have a built in ‘customer needs help and has no idea which dildo to get to peg her super hot boyfriend’ radar.

“You guys need help?” He is a small man, with a monotone voice. He looks like he would rather be anywhere else at 12:30am on a Saturday night.

“NO!” Jeongguk says quickly and loudly. Very loudly.

Both you and the store clerk flinch, looking at him shocked.

Jeongguk shifts on his feet. “No.” He says in a more socially acceptable tone. “No- I’m sorry. But we’re uh-” He grabs your arm and pulls you closer. “We’re good, thanks.”

The clerk looks between you and Jeongguk and the dildos. “Um… Alright.” He starts to walk away before he turns back around. “Well if you change your mind, I’m Yoongi and I’ll be at the counter. If your toy is electric I’ll test it in the back before you leave… We uh- provide batteries with your purchase if needed…” With one last glance, a very judgmental one in Jeongguk’s opinion, Yoongi takes his place at said counter. His eyes flicker to you guys every once in a while.

“Baby,” You grab Jeongguk’s face between your palms and make him look at you. You squeeze and his lips poke out making him look like a guppy. He blinks. “I know you’re nervous, but it’s going to be okay.”

He rolls his eyes, guppy face and all. “Well obviously. I just- We don’t need help.” He wiggles out of your grip, much like a… guppy.

You grin, trying not to laugh, and just be the supportive girlfriend you are. “Okay, did you decide which one you want?”

A side glance. “Not yet…”

You walk up and go to grab a pink sparkly one.

“Uh, not that one.”

You quirk an eyebrow and move your hand to a larger one.

“No.”

You play a little game of dildo hot or cold until you have a better idea of what Jeongguk wants. His preference seems to be skin tone, close to his own, with a more realistic feel. Normal balls though, not squishy. Also no faux hair. You thank him for that. If you actually had a penis it would surely be waxed. Bless Jeongguk for doing the same. As for size, he leaned more towards a very normal, moderate size. Maybe 5 or 6 inches at most, not too thick. Smaller than himself. One last option.

“Do you want it to vibrate?” You ask, holding one in your hand testing the numerous different settings.

He shakes his head, answering quick. “No.”

He pauses.

“Wait.” He thinks. “Maybe. Should we? You could use it too?”

Sweet, kind, considerate angel. Always thinking about you and your pleasure. Couples who share the strap last the longest.

You shrug, pointing out, “I could use one that doesn’t vibrate too.”

He looks offended and sounds snotty. “Uh, you don’t need to.”

“Whatever. Why don’t we get both?”

You had a point. He pretends to ponder it, before nodding, already persuaded. “Okay.”

“We need the harness now.”

You begin the harness hunt, walking through the store, coming across many a things, but for some reason you both keep missing them. They’re nowhere to be found.

“Maybe they’re sold out?” He tries.

“Doubt it. Let’s go ask.” You grab him by his pinky and try to drag him to the counter. He resists.

“Let’s not.”

“Koo.” You say giving him a look.

He whines, throwing his head back. Borderline throwing a fit. You hold your ground, smiling.

He’s easy to give in. Being a brat just on principle. “Fine but you’re talking.”

You stand on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “Of course, baby.” With his pinky in hand, you make your way to the counter.

The store clerk, Yoongi, if you remember correctly, is sitting behind the counter hunched over smiling at his phone. He doesn’t seem to notice you’re there.

You clear your throat gently, “Excuse me?”

Yoongi jumps, almost throwing his phone. “Fuck!” He exclaims. His fists come up ready to fight before he sees it’s you and Jeongguk. He then places his hand over his heart. “Shit, you scared me.” He chuckles, recovering quickly. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him for a moment longer before speaking up. “Um yeah, I was just wondering where your harnesses are?”

He leans on the counter, head in his hand looking kinda bored. “Hanresses? What kind? Hanging harness? Body harness?”

You glance at Jeongguk and he looks like he’s going to die.

“The um- strap on harnesses?” Your voice goes to a whisper when you say it, despite it just being you guys in the store.

Yoongi sits up, and looks at you, and then looks at Jeongguk. A look of understanding comes over his face along with an amused smile. He nods to himself, while getting up to help you. “Nice. Follow me.”

Jeongguk gapes at the ‘nice’ and looks at you in disbelief. You pat his butt telling him to get going.

With some help from Yoongi you pick out a harness that looks supportive and comfortable, the ring that holds the dildo, compatible with both the ones that you plan on getting. It’s a simple adjustable black one. Yoongi recommended wearing something under it if the straps dig into you and irritate. He seems bored, but he’s actually very good at his job, and very knowledgeable.

Finally you’re at the counter. You place all the items in Yoongi’s reach and he’s just about to tell you the total when Jeongguk perks up.

“Wait!” He says before scurrying off.

It’s quiet for a split second. Before the clerk speaks up.

“He’s cute.”

You smile, “Thanks, he’s mine.”

Yoongi laughs, small little fish teeth and gums on display. Must be a Pisces. You know Pisces teeth. “Does he have any cute friends?”

You nod. “Yeah, but they are dating.”

He shrugs. “Don’t care.”

“Uh… I can give you their Instagrams?”

He pulls out his phone, and follows them right there after a quick glance at their pages. Confidence is nice.

There’s a short lull in the conversation. And Jeongguk seems to be taking his sweet time getting something you guys must have forgotten. Or the poor things lost. It’s a big store. You speak up this time.

“Do you have like a manager I could leave a review for? You were really helpful, and seemed like you really knew what you were talking about.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I own the place. You think I would be here on a Saturday night if it wasn’t obligatory? Thanks, though.”

“Oh.” You say. That was pretty impressive. The store was quite successful based on the reviews. You would make sure to let Jimin and Taehyung know Yoongi was a business man.

“Okay, I’m back.” Jeongguk announces. “Sorry I forgot where it was.”

He places 2 (two) large bottles of lube on the counter. You cough out a laugh.

“Baby, we have lube at home.”

“But do we have enough?”

“I think maybe one more would be more than enough.”

He ignores you, looking Yoongi in the eyes for the first time tonight. “Add both please.”

Yoongi nods, looking a little scared of Jeongguk’s seriousness, and does as he’s ordered.

After Jeongguk pays, and you both are making your way to the exit, Yoongi calls out, “Good luck, tell your friends to follow me back!”

“Uh- Okay?” Jeongguk yells back. When you’re in the parking lot, he asks, “What the heck was that about?”

You shake your head, laughing to yourself. “Don’t worry about it.”

~~~

As soon as you get back to your dorm, the atmosphere is thick, full of tension and nervous anticipation. Jeongguk’s fidgety, eager to get started. You’re not far off, but contain yourself a little more. Need to keep control of the situation in case Jeongguk gets deep into his mood.

You guys are in the bathroom now, each one washing a toy before you use it. You make sure to unwrap the harness and the lube as well, both at Jeongguk’s insistent request, ensuring you don’t have to stop and deal with it later.

“Let’s just get undressed in here, it’s where my hamper is.” You say already tugging your shirt over your head, tits bouncing freely. Jeongguk went without briefs today, and you went without a bra.

Jeongguk quietly follows suit, and you don’t miss the way his hands are trembling a little in anticipation. When you’re both naked he kisses you quickly, and jiggles your boobs a little just because they are there and because he can, before saying, “Okay, lets go.” He’s out the bathroom before you can even respond. You laugh to yourself and gather the stuff he forgot in his excitement.

When you walk out with your hands full, you see Jeongguk spreading out a blanket over your comforter.

“Whatcha doin?” You ask curiously, placing the items on the nightstand.

“Gets messy. Wanna save your bedding.” He states.

You squawk, grabbing the blanket he set up on your bed. “Not my baby blanket you monster.”

He laughs, abs tensing. You notice he’s already hanging a little heavy between his thighs. “Sorry. Was the first one I saw.” He walks over to the couch and replaces the blanket that’s hanging over the back with your baby blanket and resets up. “Better?” he asks, extended his arm towards your bed to show off his work.

You nod, and take the few steps needed to close the space between you both. Your hand runs down his belly, and you feel his muscles jump, and you see little goosebumps sprout all over. His hands come up to cup your tits. You kiss softly where his heart is. You look up at him.

“I love you.” You smile.

He blushes. “Love you.” He whispers, before he leans down and slots your lips together.

It’s eager from the start. Your bodies press together, as your hands roam. When he takes a breath and surges back in, your teeth click together is his haste, before his tongue slips into your mouth. He groans into you, his hand going down to cup your ass, squeezing and pulling you impossibly closer.

You feel his cock against your belly, almost fully hard already. You reach down to wrap a hand around him, wanting to help him get there before you get started. He hisses, thrusting forward instinctively before pulling away. He looks like he hates that he does.

“No- I,” He’s already short of breath, chest rising and falling a little bit faster than normal. “I wanna watch you cum. With the toy.” He reaches around you, grabbing the vibrating dildo. “Please?” He asks. His eyes are fervent.

You take the toy in your hand, and kiss him again softly. “Yeah, baby. Whatever you. It’s all about you tonight.”

He shakes his head. “Always about you too.”

Your heart beats, happy in your chest. You thought about it earlier in the night, but Jeongguk really was the best lover. He always, always made sure you were taken care of, before, during, and after sex. He was so vocal and communicative, genuinely wanting you to know it was always about both of you, even if one was receiving more attention. He was caring like that in and out of the bedroom. You were so lucky to be his.

“You’re too good to me,” You laugh, climbing onto the bed. You settle back against your pillows, propping some behind you so you can see him, and watch him while you get off. He takes his place in front of you, looking at you expectantly.

He’s impatient, placing his hands on your knees, spreading you open so he can see your cunt. You let him get you into position before saying, “Keep your hands to yourself now, okay?”

He nods, eyes never leaving your pussy. He licks his lips. “Okay.” It’s said in a distracted kind of far away tone.

You hum as you bring the toy to your mouth, getting it wet. You wouldn’t need any lube, you would be dripping in no time. You don’t waste any time putting your free hand down between your legs and spreading your pussy lips, so your clit and the pretty pink center of your cunt are displayed for Jeongguk. You glance at him through your lashes, when you hear a small gasp fall from his lips. He’s already got a hand around himself. Just the tips of his fingers stroking his length, at a leisurely pace.

“She’s so pretty… You’re so pretty.” His eye flick to your face before zeroing in on your center again.

“Tell me how to do it baby. Tell me what you want to see.” You say, voice salacious and soft. You circle your finger slowly around your nub, dipping inside just a bit to spread your slick around.

When he swallows, it’s audible, his Adam's apple jumping. “I want you to turn it on low, and put it on your clit. I want you to feel good.”

You smile, and drag the tip of it down your body to just above your clit, turning it on the lowest setting before making contact with your sensitive nub. Your legs jolt, almost closing when you feel the vibrations. Even the lowest setting was strong. Your head falls back, and your legs spread more for him once you get used to the strength of the toy. “Fuck…” You breathe.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, greedy for your pleasure.

You nod, eyes still closed, focusing. You move the vibrator in small circles over your clit. You can hear Jeongguk’s breaths speed up.

“Turn it up.” His voice gives away that he’s speeded up his hand on his cock too.

You do as he says, looking at him as you do. He’s sin personified. He’s on his knees, sitting back on his feet, so his thighs are flexed and bulging. His abs tense when his palm twists under the crown of his cock. His eyes almost look black, pupils blown so wide, lust taking over his face. He’s got his plump bottom lip drawn between his teeth. He looks up from your pussy and catches you staring. He smiles shyly.

You keep your eyes on him as you bring the toy back down to your core. A short high pitched moan falls from your lips, as your brows knit together, before your eyes roll back. He groans, your expression enough to make his cock start to leak.

“Feels so good, Jeongguk.” You moan. The vibrator is right where it feels best, pulsing against your clit, causing pleasure to bleed into your veins.

“Yeah, baby?” He asks, he’s breathless, sounds like he’s in love. With you, your cunt. “Tell me.”

“‘S just right Koo, could make me cum just like this…”

He curses, and you open your eyes just in time to see him grip the base of his cock, keeping himself in check. “Not yet, baby. Little longer, please.” Still so polite and good for you, even when he’s the one telling you what to do.

He has you keep the vibe there, for a while longer, right in the spot that’s gonna make you lose it. He watches as a tiny clear drop leaks from you pink little pussy. It looks like it’s heavy and about to drip down to the blanket under you. He doesn’t notice your legs shaking until you’re gasping, “Koo, I’m almost- I’m gonna-”

“No!” He says quickly, his hand reaches out to pull the vibrator from your cunt just before you get your high. Your pussy aches and throbs, wanting to cum so bad.

Your chest is heaving when you ask, “Are… are you edging me?”

He shakes his head, even though your eyes are closed, trying to catch your breath. “No, no! I just. I got distracted.” He looks at that small drop of slick again. Fuck, he wants to lick it up and drink you down. “You’re leaking.” He states.

You laugh, breathing getting back to normal. “Yeah?” You reach your hand down to collect the distracting little droplet and bring it in front of you. You press the sticky finger to your thumb and then pull them apart to see the clear strings stay connected even as you pull. You hum, before offering your hand to Jeongguk. He sucks in a breath.

“Want some?”

He’s quick as he crawls between you legs, cock fully hard now. He watches you as he sucks your fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling around getting every last bit, before he sucks off with a pop!

He crawls farther up your body to kiss you deep, wanting you to get a taste of yourself too. He pulls back just a bit, and whispers against your lips, “I want you to fuck yourself with it, okay? Just for a little bit, then you can cum?” He’s phrasing it as a question, knowing he really doesn't have the final say, not tonight. But his voice is shaking from how turned on he is, how could you ever say no?

“Sit back.” Is all you respond. He does as he’s told.

You buzz the toy over your clit again, just because you can. Wanting to see how long Jeongguk can be good before begging. Turns out it’s not long at all.

“Put it in…” He moans. You look at him and his mouth is parted, and his eyes heavy as he watches you. His hand is moving fast over his cock, sticking straight up to his tummy. “Please.”

You drag the toy down to your slit, and tease it there before just barely pushing it in just a fraction of the length. Jeongguk whines, high and desperate. Apparently you’re moving to slow for him.

“More,” He begs.

You sigh, “You’re so needy tonight, baby.” He nods, agreeable.

When the toy sinks inside of you all the way to the hilt, you and Jeongguk both moan a quiet, “Fuck.” simultaneously. You’re coherent enough to laugh a little at the jinx, but he seems to barely notice, too focused on watching the toy sink into you, and then come back out to vibrate your clit again. You keep up this teasing pattern, again waiting to be told what to do by him, waiting to see how long he makes it this time.

“Harder, do it harder,” He’s panting. Moaning every word that leaves his lips.

You do as he says, and finally push the toy in at a pace that gets you climbing to being close again. You won’t be able to come like this though, and he knows that. Knows that you can only cum from penetration with him. He leans over and grabs the other toy from the end table, spitting on it and spreading it around until it's covered well.

“Use them both, want you to cum for me.”

With two toys in your hands, one in your cunt, filling you up, and one on your clit, making your legs shake, you do your best to make yourself cum. But it’s not enough. A soft whine falls from your lips, you’re so close, but you need more. More than you can give yourself.

“Faster baby, faster. You’re so close.” He whispers. He got both hands working now too, one stroking and one down tugging on his balls.

You whimper, “I can’t my arm hurts. It’s tired.”

Immediately he stops pleasing himself and gets right to pleasing you. Your pleasure taking priority. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll help you baby.”

Jeongguk sits between your legs, and takes over the toy fucking into you, and turns up the one on your clit. With him pushing the toy in at a pace that you couldn’t do yourself, and the other toy vibing your clit incessantly, it takes barely any time at all for you to cum. You were so close already, just needed him to push you over.

Your legs are shaking and your toes are curling, when you cry out, “Baby, I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, baby. Wanna watch.” He’s quiet, paying close attention to your body and the reactions he’s helping pull from it. He’s part of the reason why your face looks so pornographic as you finish. He’s part of the reason why your back is arching off of the bed. He’s part of the reason why your toes are curling, and why your legs are shaking, and why your pussy is contracting over the toy he’s still thrusting inside of you, working you through every last second of your orgasm. He reads your body cues, and slows down and pulls it out when you start to come down. You look blissed out, and you bring a hand to your hair and fluff it a little before laughing.

“That was good.” You sigh smiling, and when you look at him an image forms in your head, and you have every intention of making him carry it out.

Right before your eyes, Jeongguk wraps his lips around the toy that is going to be inside of him in just a short while, sucking off your slick. He laps his tongue around it trying to get it all. He’s obscene.

“Gimme,” You say sitting up with an extended hand.

He pouts at being interrupted, but does as he’s told. He takes your spot on the bed, and you head to the bathroom, stopping by your dresser on the way.

When you get to the bathroom, you close the door and get to cleaning the toys once again. After, you get to the stuff you grabbed from the wardrobe. A lacy pair of black panties, and sheer black thigh highs with matching lace adorning the tops. You slip into them, and then move on to the strap on. You hold it in front of you and try to make sense of which part goes where, and which holes your legs go into. It takes a second, but you get into it, adjusting it so it's nice and snug. Your outfit probably won’t help much with protecting your thighs, but at least the little part above your pussy will be safe. You look at yourself in the mirror. Not too weird or scary yet. You glance at the dildo on the counter.

It’s not too big so hopefully it’s not too… jarring when you see yourself with it. You get to work, slipping the suction base of the non-vibrating toy into the ring that’s meant to hold it in place. You look at it sticking out from your crotch and take a deep breath before turning to the mirror.

You gasp, before cackling quietly. You knew it was going to be weird. Like you knew. But actually seeing yourself with the whole get up is funny. Right now at least. You know it’s going to be sexy, once you get used to it and into the moment and inside of Jeongguk. You wonder how he’s going to react. Only one way to find out.

While you're walking to your bedroom from the bathroom, the dildo bobs, and you're giggling distractedly until you lift your eyes to let your boyfriend know you're ready. Again you’re met with a scene so indecent it belongs in a porno.

Jeongguk’s eyes are closed and soft moans are falling from his lips as he strokes his cock. He’s got three fingers in his ass, opening himself up for you, for your cock. Such a good good boy. He was so patient and productive while you got ready for him.

“You’re so good baby,” You murmur softly.

Jeongguk blinks his eyes open slowly, and rolls his head to the side to look at you. He doesn’t even falter in his movements at all, hand still moving, fingers still thrusting. He smiles a little when he sees you, but his eyes are hazy and he sounds lust drunk when he simply says, “You look sexy.”

You blush and a fond smile graces your lips, any embarrassment or self consciousness you were feeling prior to seeing him spread out for you on your bed, quickly vanishing.

You settle on the bed between his legs and watch for a moment as his hole takes his long fingers in. “Want me to help?” You ask quietly.

“Mhmm,” He nods, eyes closed still, tongue peeking out from between his lips. He doesn’t take his fingers out, though.

You grab the lube next to him, and flip it open. “You gonna get out so I can get in?”

He shakes his head. “Nuh uh. Put one in with mine.”

Something about that makes your body tingle. Inside of him with him. Opening him up. You can’t explain it, because you don’t really even get it yourself, but it makes you buzz and feel almost high.

You slick up your middle finger, and drizzle some more on his for good measure. He jumps slightly, and then giggles softly.

“Cold.” He says.

“Sorry,” You say distractedly. Your finger is lined up with his now.

“I’ve never done 4 before so you… have to go slow…” He pauses as he speaks, letting himself moan freely when his fingers graze over that secret spot that he’s grown to love so much.

“Tell me to stop if you need to.”

He doesn’t reply, just stops his fingers so you can wiggle yours in next to his. At the first push against his hole, there’s resistance. Very much expected. He’s quiet, teeth gritted, but he never says stop, knowing his body wants it, and knowing it will accommodate what he wants. After the second knuckle, your finger sinks in, almost gets sucked in, by his hole.

He lets out a shaky breath.

“You okay, baby?” You check in.

“Yeah just… full.” He moans when you wiggle your finger experimentally. “”S good. Move it some more.”

You do, and his start to move with yours. You can feel his fingers curl inside of himself to reach his prostate, and it’s pleasant in an out of body way, knowing when his face is going to contort in pleasure, and when he’s going to cry out, when you never really knew before. You’ve milked him before, of course, but feeling him do it to himself from the inside? It’s kind of thrilling.

“Pull, stretch me out.” He moans, voice impatient and needy.

He gets kinda slutty when something’s up his ass.

He swears when you do, his finger rubbing insistent circles on his prostate to distract himself from the minor sting of the stretch. His moans, start to raise in pitch and his hand that’s on his cock, still jerking it, starts to speed up. You can tell he’s close. He clenches against your finger that’s still stretching him open.

“Fuck,” He says, on a breathless giggle, “Take them out. Or I’m gonna cum.” He’s still stroking his cock, like he doesn’t wanna stop.

“You c-”

“No. Out.” He demands, hand finally pulling away from his cock, and his fingers inside stop. You gently ease out of him.

When Jeongguk’s fingers slip out, you gasp. His little pink hole is clenching on nothing, still open just the tiniest bit, thoroughly stretched.

“You know how you always say my pussy is pretty?” You ask, fingers tracing around the puffy stretched rim.

He makes an affirmative noise, watching you with hooded, lazy eyes as you touch him. He even spreads farther so you can touch and see better. You marvel at the difference between the embarrassed boy you made cum untouched a couple months ago, and the one in front of you now, so comfortable and relaxed. It makes you happy.

“Well, your butthole is pretty.”

He snorts, and kicks you lightly. He smiles at you, soft and sluggish. “Just fuck me.”

He sounds so wistful and just ready.

But you’re not.

You grip the base of your cock, and stand up. You walk to the head of the bed, next to his confused face. You stay there waiting for him to get it. He doesn’t.

“You want me inside of you right baby?” You ask, voice gentle.

He nods, eyes no longer hazy, but wide and confused. He looks between you and your cock.

“I think that means you have to get me ready. Get me nice and wet, right?”

You can physically see when Jeongguk gets it. When it clicks for him. His eyes darken, and he licks his lips. “Yeah… You’re right. I should… help you.” He whispers, sitting up. You back up enough for him to have a place on the floor.

Jeongguk on his knees for you isn’t a new sight. He’s eaten your pussy like this before, you either grinding onto his face, or him holding you still and making quick work of your clit. But Jeongguk on his knees for you to suck your cock? New, and lewd.

He looks nervous, kind of hesitant. A hand is raised midway, like he isn't sure if he should grab it.

“Lick it, baby.�� You encourage.

He glances at you, doe eyes seeking approval as he leans forward and gives a kitten lick to the tip. You nod, letting him know he’s doing well. His hand comes up and replaces yours at the base and he opens his mouth enough to wrap his lips around the head, and he swirls his tongue.

He pops off, and strokes up to where his mouth was and spreads the little bit of spit. The silicone is still dry though, so he spits on it more, straight from his mouth. You suck in a breath.

“Fuck, you’re so hot baby.” You whisper a breathy moan as his hands move up and down your cock. He adds his mouth again.

He hums a little, before backing up and looking at you again. “Does that feel good?” He asks.

You laugh lightly, in pure awe of him. He’s so sexy, and so sweet, and so incredibly lust inducing. Your pussy aches behind your cock. “Feels so good, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He hums, still stroking you off. “I really want it inside me…” He says, hinting that he’s ready.

You have mercy on him, having fulfilled your newfound personal fantasy enough for the night. Maybe you could revisit it another time. But now it was time to fulfill a mutual fantasy.

“On the bed, hands and knees.” You tell him.

Excitedly he hops back onto the bed, and gets into position, his hole on display for you. His back is arched and you can see the plush swell where his lower back meets the top of his cheeks. You settle behind him, and his shoulder to waist to hip ratio, is sinful. He’s always had the daintiest waist, strong, but still so small. But at this angle, it’s cinched and the way his legs are spread makes his hips look wider, accentuating the dip at his middle. You rub your hands over the narrow curve, all the way to his cheeks, grabbing handfuls of the muscle. There’s a slight give when you squeeze your hands.

Jeongguk’s head drops, and he lets out a shuddering sigh, he’s got the chills again, and he’s got a constant thrum coursing through his body. “Please…” He moans, so quietly, so desperately.

You kiss the small of his back before grabbing the lube left abandoned on the bed. You lather 2 of your fingers, and push them into Jeongguk’s hole making sure he’s nice and slick. There’s no resistance at all, hole loose and ready enough for them to slip right in. Then you lather your cock, probably with too much lube, honestly, but you wanted to be so sure that he didn’t feel any more pain than absolutely necessary. You knew the first initial push in would be the worst, but you were hopeful you both had stretched him out enough to at least minimize or diminish it altogether.

You grab the base of your cock and line it up with his hole. It flutters, when you barely press against his rim.

“Ready?” You ask, giving a heads up.

“Yeah.” He says softly.

He’s tight. His hole sinks in with the tip of your cock before the rim gives and swallows around it. Jeongguk tenses and his hands grip the blanket under you.

“Shit…” He groans. He sounds like he’s clenching his teeth.

You rub soothingly at his lower back, fingers dipping when you run them over the dimples at the bottom of his spine. “You’re doing so good baby.” You tell him.

“Doesn’t really hurt, I’m just stretching.” He says through his teeth. “I can take it though, keep going.”

You grab the lube and drizzle more directly onto his hole. He doesn’t mention the cold this time, too focused on taking your cock. You push against him, and feel yourself sink deeper into him. It’s like after the tip was in, his body knew what to do to take the rest. The slide wasn’t a swift, fast stroke, but it was a smooth and slow glide. When you bottom out Jeongguk’s arms give out from under him, his face going to the bed.

“Holy fuck.” He keens, resting his head on his arms. Your hands are constantly on him, soothing him in any way that you can.

“Tell me when.” You whisper patiently. He nods. With his head turned to the side and pillowed on his arms, you can see his eyes are squeezed shut. The inhales and exhales you can see in the expanding of his ribcage, tell you that he’s taking deep breaths working through the stretch, getting himself used to it.

“Okay… Ready.” He murmurs.

You pull out just a bit before pushing back in. Jeongguk moans softly. Spreads his legs even wider, arches his back even deeper. He’s pushing his ass out for you, his body begging you to make it feel good.

You keep a slow pace, kind of nervous to speed up.

“You can go faster, feels nice.” He says. He’s been puffing out little gasps of air every time you bottom out with your slow pace.

With his consent, you grab at his hips and pull out to just the tip, before swiftly pushing back in, fast and hard. His cheeks bounce on the impact. You grab one and jiggle it a little, thrusting into him again, drinking down the whines that slip out.

“You’ve got such a bubble butt, I never noticed before. But it like… bounces.” You say, wonder in your tone.

“Thanks, can you like tell me about it later?” He asks, voice strained.

Point taken.

Your thrust game is kind of shitty, in reality. It’s hard to find a rhythm, your hips not used to moving this way. But Jeongguk is moaning freely underneath you, just happy to have something inside of him after thinking about it all week. So you keep going, and eventually, the pattern comes to you, still kind of messy, but now you’ve got him cursing beneath you. You’ve got one hand on his ass, the other braced on his arched spine.

A particularly good thrust has Jeongguk burying his face into the bed, teeth biting at the bedding. “Yeah fuck-” He groans with his mouth full of blanket. With his hands now free, he brings them behind him and settles them on his cheeks and spreads.

You watch clearly as your cock sinks into Jeongguk’s ass. You’re out of breath, but you make sure to tell him how good he looks, how pretty his hole looks swallowing your cock, like it was made to take it.

“Wanna ride you.” He says. His voice is pitifully wrecked and he sounds so thoroughly fucked, you feel a little proud. Still, you’re grateful for a break. You don’t know how he fucks you like he does. ‘Topping’ is tiring. You pull out of him, and realize that when you were in awe of his hole at taking your fingers, it was premature. Jeongguk’s hole after he takes your cock is vulgar. It’s properly gaped now. Not huge, but around a fingers width.

He rolls over, and settles on his back like he just needs a moment. His chest is heaving, similar to yours. You hop off the bed, and a needy keen comes from him. You glance back at him, and he looks like he’s going to get up and follow you, but you hush him gently.

“I’m just getting some water, baby. I’ll be right back.”

He huffs flopping back onto his back. “Hurry please.” He whines.

You get back as soon as possible with a glass of water for you both to share. He sits up onto one elbow and makes a grabby hand for the cup after you’ve had your share. You swat his hand away and hold the cup to his lips. He hums, gulping the water down. He’s happy to be coddled and taken care of. When he finishes with a cute little gasp, you place the cup to the side, and brush your hand through his sweaty hair.

He butts his head against your palm and laughs. His eyes shut, and crinkled at the corners. His water break seems to have perked him up. His cock hasn’t deflated one bit. Rock hard and red, throbbing against his tummy. It’s messy and wet too.

You’re about to ask if he touched himself while you were inside of him, but before you can, you’re getting manhandled until he’s on top of you. He’s got your hands pinned above your head, and he smiles at you playfully, before leaning down to kiss you, deep and slow. He sucks on your lip, and slowly grinds his cock onto your belly, soft whines spilling from his tongue. He brushes his nose against yours as he sighs into your mouth, finally allowing himself the pleasure of paying attention to his cock.

He doesn’t allow himself relief for long, however. He’s sitting up and looking from side to side for the lube before finally spotting it. His movements are quick and hectic, like he’s too excited and overly eager.

You rub your hands over his strong thighs. “Hey, slow down. You don’t have to rush. We have all night.”

He sighs at your touch, and nods softly. He whispers. “Yeah… okay. I love you.”

The little affection makes you swoon, absolutely smitten. “I love you.” You squeeze at his legs, tenderly.

He hums. “Gonna ride you now.” He opens the lube and continues with eager actions, almost like you didn’t even slow him down just a moment ago. You smile fondly to yourself. Jeongguk’s too busy slicking up your cock again to notice the mushy look.

He’s got a hand reaching behind him and he’s gripping your cock to line it up with his hole. He wiggles to get into the right position before slowly starting to sink down. His eyebrows are pinched, and his mouth falls open. But his eyes roll back when he bottoms out. His hands are braced on your stomach.

“Oh, I love it like this.” He whimpers. His legs tense at your sides, almost like he’s trying to close his legs at the pleasure he feels from your cock being tucked inside of him, hitting all the right places. He starts to grind on your cock, soft pleasured little mewls just tumbling off his tongue.

He looks so good, whining, grinding on you with his weeping cock displayed. But you wanna see him lose it on your cock. See him fall apart at how good it feels, not watch him bask in it.

“Bounce on it.” You say, voice sounding almost as fucked out as his. You know your panties are soaked through at this point, pussy pulsing and neglected, tucked away behind the strap.

Jeongguk nods. “Yeah, wanna.”

He’s lifting himself off your cock to the tip before sliding down on it again, hard and fast. It punches a sharp gasp from his lungs. He finds a pace he likes and keeps it up, his thighs tensing, and his abs flexing as he tests his stamina, chasing that euphoric feeling he wants so so badly. He’s so strong and fit, bouncing up and down on your cock as loud unabashed moans fill the room.

The force of him riding you makes your tits jiggle, bouncing around until they catch his attention. He groans before his hands find them, squeezing hard, using them as leverage as he pulls and drags his hips over yours. Your cock must be rubbing over his prostate because he’s losing his mind. All kinds of noises leave his mouth, and the expressions he makes are filthy.

“Fuck baby. You make me feel so good. The best- I-” He eyes squeeze shut and his mouth opens in a silent moan, overwhelmed, before a guttural groan sounds from deep within his chest. “God. Wanna cum on your cock, baby. Fuck me-”

You laugh, wonderstruck, and kind of deliriously high on the satisfaction and fulfillment you get from seeing Jeongguk feel so just…. Good. “Yeah baby? You’re gonna cum for me? All over my cock?”

He whimpers and nods as he gets back to bouncing, a desperation to his movements that wasn’t there before. His cock is slapping against both of your stomachs with nasty wet noises due to his precum getting everywhere. You feel some fly and hit your neck, his cock just dripping, weeping and begging to cum.

It won’t be long though, before he cums. You feel the way his thighs tense, and he gets that confused look on his face, and he’s got that puzzled pitch to his moans. It’s the way he always gets when he cums untouched, always in awe that he can do it himself, without a hand around his cock. His whole body is flushed and hot to the touch, sweat making him glow in the soft light of your bedroom lamp.

He throws his head back, neck extended, and veins bulging, before looking down at his bouncing cock. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He’s so whiny and noisy when he moans.

“Yeah?” You ask again, “Do it baby, show me how. You can do it, cum for me.”

He’s nodding frantically, “Yeah- I’m gonna... Fuck, yes- Yeah, I’m-” He bounces a few more times, silent aside from the obscene squelching noises of your skin meeting, before his body tenses one last time before that string in him snaps. “Cumming-” He chokes it out. His moans don’t stop the whole time his cock shoots out his load, landing on your tummy. The moans even turn into cries, actual tears filling his eyes and falling down his cheeks. His body jerks and twitches with his orgasm. But still, he’s grinding on you, your cock still rubbing that spot inside of him, it’s like he never wants the feeling to end, even if it’s devastating, bordering on too much to handle.

You smooth your hands all over his sweaty body, before firmly placing them on his hips, stopping him. “Hey. You’re good, you did so good baby, you don’t have to keep going.”

Jeongguk’s cries are quiet, and he takes a few deep stuttering breaths to try and calm himself down, nodding with your soothing words. He rubs the back of his hand at his eyes, trying to dry them. It doesn’t help much, he’s calmed himself some but a few silent tears still make their way out, along with some soft hiccupping breaths.

“Lay down, and wait for me, hmm?” You whisper gently. He nods and lifts himself slowly, wincing at the sore ache in his hole. It’s more prevalent now that the pleasure has subsided. He all but collapses onto your pillow.

“I’m gonna get some more water, and a towel okay?”

He grunts in response.

Before you go, you strip out of the gear, just tossing it on the ground, eager to get back to Jeongguk after getting the things you need.

When you get back, he is in the same exact position, and you laugh lightly.

“Baby?” You ask, making sure he didn’t fall asleep.

Another grunt.

Good, he would hate you in the morning if you left him to sleep being so messy.

“Sit up, I have water and snacks and cleaning supplies.”

His head pops up. “Snacks?” His hair is sticking up on one side.

You laugh, endeared. He’s not crying anymore either, a good sign that he will be okay in just a little while after some kisses and love.

“Yeah, I got some of those seaweed chips you like, and some water.”

He sits up, leaning back on the pillows knowing the drill for after butt stuff. You hand him the water and the chips. He eats first.

“You hungry?” You ask, fitting yourself between his legs with the warm washcloth. He opens easily, munching away. You both are far past after sex shyness.

He talks with his mouth full. “Yeah. Jimin said not to eat the day off.”

You hum curiously, but don’t question it. Jimin partakes in butt stuff much more than you both.

You’ve got all the lube cleaned off his thighs and cheeks, now all that’s left is his hole. You do it as gently as you can, knowing he’s sore just from how red and swollen and puffy it is. But he still winces.

“How bad is it?” He mumbles.

You hesitate. “Um… You’re gonna be a little sore.” You tell him simply.

He groans, before downing his water. When he’s done, he says, “Practice is going to suck.”

You nod in agreement. It was. You wrap the used cloth in the blanket you used to protect your sheets, once again just tossing the bundle to the floor.

“Worth it though,” He smiles, pleased.

You chuckle as you find your place by him. He’s set his refreshments aside and lets you curl against him. His body sags with exhaustion when he feels your warmth press into him. You plant kisses on every inch of skin you can reach. He purrs.

“Why’d you keep going?” You ask, between smooches.

“I don’t know… it just felt so good. I guess I didn’t want it to stop.” He’s quiet, and his words are said on a sigh.

You nod, your kisses making your way to his lips. You just kiss him, slow and easy, for a few minutes until he yawns into it. He giggles.

“I’m so tired man.”

“I bet man.” You tease.

He kisses you one more time before asking, “Will you tickle my back until I fall asleep?” It’s hopeful and so sugary sweet.

“Yeah roll over.”

It’s barely a few minutes before you're met with his soft snores. You kiss his shoulder blade, before following right behind him.

~~~~

you ask for pegging and you shall receive :] i hope you liked it and that it met ur pegging standards askdkhjd as always, comments and feedback and asks and notes are loved and appreciated. thank you for reading friends ily :*

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spiderling-space · 3 years

Note

Cater is so underrated! Could you do a yandere Cater fic where a fem!MC is already dating him and they’re having an intimate moment (kissing) when she decides to break up with him and he keeps trying to get her to stay (he’s desperate). He wasn’t a yandere until she decided to leave. I hope this is an okay request! Slight nsfw if you’re willing!

I don't know why but writing Cater as yandere was way harder than Kalim.

Achievement unlocked: You made your boyfriend go yandere

Italics indicate thoughts

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Cater Diamond

Warning: Yandere behaviour, toxic relationship

You can do this, (Y/N)! (Y/N) was giving herself confidence-boosting phrases as she firmly made her way to Cater, her boyfriend, well, soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend. He was taking selfies when she arrived at his side. He greeted her with a kiss on the lips after he was done with selfies. She couldn't find it in her heart to return the kiss. To get out of the situation and get his attention, she gingerly patted his shoulder. Lady luck must have been on her side as he withdrew the next second.

"No kissy today?" Cater asked with a cheerful attitude. He didn't even wait for her response before wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pressing their cheeks together, and making a peace sign with his hand. "Say cheese!" She force smiled at the camera instinctively as she grew accustomed to Cater's sudden selfie moments. He took a few selfies and retreated his arm to select the best one in his standards.

"Cater, we need to talk."

"Hmm hmm," Her request, once again, fell into deaf ears as he didn't even acknowledge it. "Just a moment babe, I'm posting our picture #CutestCouple #Sweethearts #CantGetEnoughOfEachOther #Ca(Y/N) #(Y/N)ter"

Oh shit!

(Y/N) launched at his phone before he could post it, being grateful that he was "You need to listen to me before you post it." Only interrupting him posting on Magicam would get his attention since it was all he cared about. “I don’t think this,” she motioned herself and Cater, “... is working out.”

“Huh? What are you saying?” He looked confused, looking at her intently while he was reaching to get his phone back.

“I asked you to meet because I want to break up. It would be better to do it in person." She felt relief wash over her after she told him what she was holding back for the last 2 weeks. "I just ca-"

"That is not cute, totally not Magigrammable." (Y/N) assumed he didn't process what she had told yet considering he was standing in front of her with a blank expression.

"You are amazing and I had such a great time with you. I thought I would be fine with you posting every moment we have on Magicam but I am not." It is better to be straightforward than to beat around the bush. He is going to understand me, I'm sure of it.

"I want people to see how cute we look, (Y/N). Why wouldn't you like it?" He was trying to bargain with her, completely ignoring what she had just said.

"You are too focused on being cute and showing it off to everyone and expecting validation for it but you don't live the moment from my point of view. It is not something I can handle. It just encumbers me." (Y/N) put her hands on his biceps gently, making eye contact so he would see her genuineness. She didn't want to hurt his feelings but the reality was better than living a lie. "I can't expect you to change or force to be different than you already are. It is best if we part ways as a friend. I'm sure there is someone out there who would love every side of you." She let her arms fall to her sides, slightly patting on her thighs as she awaited his response. He was far too silent than usual. She just hoped he accepted her reasoning as a mature person would and now was pondering a way to react.

"That's not going to work." Thank goodness, he understood! "My followers adore our pictures together. They get the most likes! We can't break up!" Damn it, I spoke too soon. (Y/N) was about to reason with him but he suddenly grabbed her arm. "You can't break up with me!" She had never seen his eyes blazing with anger, and it was a sight she ought to not see.

(Y/N) was wriggling to be free of his grip but he was squeezing her arm more and more as she continued her struggle. "You are hurting me!" She grabbed his hand on her, digging her nails on his skin so that he would let her go out of pain.

"I'm hurting you?" Cater ignored her plea as if it meant nothing to him. "You are the one who is hurting me! Are you trying to make me lose followers? Do you want people to dislike me? Is that your goal?"

She stopped her strife momentarily, too shocked to hear what he had said. "Wh-what... What does that have anything to do with how I feel about our relationship?!" He was being too self-centered at the moment, only caring about how he felt. "Listen, I want to remain as friends. We can take occasional pictures together that you can post on Magicam but I gotta go my own way, Cater." She wanted to bite his hand and kick him in the sack but she wagered it would be worse if she pushed forward so she decided to take a passive approach.

"Is that your way of pitying me? You are just like my sisters. So cruel, thinking yourself better than me, taking the best thing from me, and expecting me to be content with the scraps." He let her go abruptly, making her lose her balance and fall on her butt. "But you aren't a cruel person, are you?" He knelt on her level, lifting her head from her chin with his hand. "We aren't going to break up. That is just a silly joke you made."

Was he always delusional? (Y/N) tried to sing his tune but it didn't work. She hastily swatted his hand away. "I thought he would stay as friends but clearly you are too deranged for it!"

When she tried to get up, Cater pushed her back. "I believe you would prefer to continue dating me." He was too calm as he uttered those words while twirling the end of his hair strand with a snide smile on his face.

What the fuck is he on? He better gives me the number of his dealer! "Were you not listening to me?!" The more this drew out the more she got irritated. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He just smiled at her remark. "I suppose plenty of things but now isn't the time for me. It is the time for you." He unlocked his phone and scrolled through something. He chuckled when she assumed he found what he was looking for. "You would prefer to date me than seeing what I have to be shared on Magicam and for everyone to talk about it." He had a chesire smile as he closed his eyes and waited for her response.

The gears turned on her mind as she understood what he was talking about. She couldn't help but laugh, it was such a weak threat for her to continue dating him. "If you think I'll still be with you because you would share my nudes and you're in for a ride. The moment you share them or are involved in their distribution, my lawyer will call you." She was certain that he would cut the crap now.

Instead of him falling out of his act, he let out a burst of loud laughter. He then turned to face her once more, bopping her nose. "Don't be ridiculous. Why would I put myself at that type of risk? It would ruin my life more than yours." He chuckled, giving her the most devilish look. "I know what you did last summer."

Huh?

(Y/N)'s heart started to pound in her chest. She was panicking, her breathing was getting hitched but she kept quiet this long and she wasn't going to quit the act now. "Nothing besides having fun." Her voice cracked as she spoke, her nerves getting to her.

"I bet you did. Especially with your high school friends. Did all of you agree to never speak of what happened last summer?" He was calm as if he was talking about weather instead of her secret.

"I don't know what you are talking about." She was convinced that he would drop the topic if she persisted to deny it.

"Oh?" He feigned surprise before turning his phone towards her so that she could see what was on the screen. Her breathing stopped and her eyes widened the second her eyes laid upon what was on Cater's phone. How did he learn about that? How did he get that video?

(Y/N) gulped, trying to collect any courage left. "H-h-h-how?" Her mind was racing, trying to find an escape from the situation but failing amazingly.

Cater just shrugged his shoulders, acting as if this was a regular thing for him. "I know a lot of things about everyone. Perks of knowing many people and having a broad network, I say. I have everything to know everything about my girlfriend, don't you think?" He didn't expect her to answer. Even if he did, what could she say? She just remained silent and she tried to process everything that happened in the last 10 minutes. He seated beside her on the grass. He took her right arm and put it around his shoulders. Her arms were limp, not having enough energy to fight back. He inched even closer and wrapped his left arm around her waist. They must have looked like a loving couple from outside while in actuality, one of them was a psycho who just threatened his girlfriend into dating him and the other one was a murderer who kept quiet even though it was just an accident.

Cater looked at her, stroking her face as a lover would. "Now be a good girl and wipe that terrified expression off your face. That's not Magigrammable unless it is Halloween time." He closed the video and opened the camera on his phone, holding it up for another selfie. "Smile for the camera." (Y/N) couldn't even bring herself to fake-smile. She was just looking at his phone with a blank expression. Cater must have seen it too since he pouted after looking at the pictures he took but he didn't fret about it, instead, he moved forward. "Now kiss me. Lovers kissing always gets more attention." (Y/N) turned towards him and leaned to kiss him as he took pictures. After he ended the kiss, he simply turned his attention to his phone. "This is going to get so many likes, (Y/N). See what happens when you stay with me?"

She only nodded in response, not wanting to talk. As Cater was adding tags to their picture, (Y/N) was left alone with her thoughts.

I deserve this. I shouldn't have agreed to stay silent last summer. Now not only I have to live with its guilt but also have to obey everything Cater says if I want to live free. But will I be truly free with Cater?

-------

If someone is threatening you to share your intimate photos, don't bend to their will. You can take legal action which can result in you receiving indemnity from intangible damage caused by them and they can get jail time for the distribution of sensitive personal data (I am unsure of the actual term in English). Just know your rights and don't stay silent.

I love "I know what you did last summer". It is one of my favorite horror movies of all time. I highly suggest it.

#twisted wonderland #twst #cater diamond #heartslabyul #yandere cater diamond #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #twisted wonderland yandere #twst yandere #yandere #ficlet #female reader

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statdaddyalien · 3 years

Text

The Alien and the Runaway (pt. 2)

Summary: Kris Statlander finds herself in a bit of a pickle. She needs to find a partner to ‘marry’ in AEW for storyline purposes. Enter the Runaway herself Ruby Soho, who is looking to make an impact. Can they learn to be a team? Will real feelings get involved? Is Kris actually an alien? Buckle up and enjoy the ride.

Rating: T

Pairing: Kris Statlander/Ruby Soho (Pt. 1 )

"So is she an alien or not? Because I am seriously thinking that she is, she picked up two whole girls."

"No, she's not an alien. I mean I don't think so. She is freakishly strong but I mean then again so is Bianca and Charlotte." Ruby rolled her eyes. She was sitting in her car outside the AEW taping, talking to Liv on facetime. No matter what company they were in or how far apart they were, Liv was always going to be her best friend.

"Some people really do get the best genes don't they?" Liv let out a dramatic sigh, before raising a brow. "So you're starting a storyline with Statlander?'

Ruby nodded. "Yeah, we're supposed to fake being married at some point, we're going to start traveling together on the road loops I think. She's supposed to save me from a beatdown tonight, and that will be the set up to us starting the story."

Liv smirked a little bit. "I mean she does kind of seem your type. She has tattoos and piercings just like you."

Ruby did her best not to blush, she really didn't want to give Liv more ammunition to tease her with. "I don't have a type Liv." She muttered, trying to downplay it. "Anyways I need to get ready for my match tonight, you'll be watching?"

Liv chuckled. "Of course Rue-Rue, I'll be watching. I got to see if your new girlfriend is an alien or not."

"Goodbye Liv." Ruby muttered with a groan, hanging up the phone. She didn't know what she was going to do with the blonde delinquent. She turned her attention back to the storyline at hand. She wanted to build something believable with Kris, something that the fans would buy into.

Ruby walked into the backstage area to find Kris already waiting for her along with Orange Cassidy, Chuck and Trent. Ruby couldn’t be certain but for a moment she was almost certain that Kris lit up when she saw her.

“Hey how’s it going?” Ruby asked, looking between them.

Chuck flashed a friendly smile her way. “Kris here was telling us, you ladies might be teaming up.”

“Yeah, I talked to the writing staff and they actually seemed to like the idea of us teaming up.” Kris said, once more sucking on her lip ring.

Ruby noticed that it seemed to be a nervous habit for the younger superstar. It kind of made Ruby want try and get her to relax. “That’s great, maybe we should go over our segment?” Ruby asked, wanting to make sure that they nailed it perfectly. She was a bit of a perfectionist in that regard.

“Yeah, I have a little bit of time. I am supposed to go with Orange to his match so as long as I am back in time.” Kris said.

Orange Cassidy nodded and gave her a thumbs up, before going back to chilling. He really did seem to embody his character, just a really mellow dude which Ruby appreciated. She had seen his works on the indies and she enjoyed seeing all the impressive things that he could do.

Kris and Ruby walked down the hall, finding a quiet spot for them to talk. Ruby couldn't pinpoint why she was feeling so nervous, but Liv's teasing words from earlier kept playing through her mind. She tried to clear her mind, focusing on what she had came here to do. She wanted to tell compelling stories and be able to wrestle.

"So I think Britt agreed to the beat down angle. I'm going to come and make the save again and maybe pick you up and carry you to the back." Kris explained, trying to fill Ruby in on what she had worked out with the other competitor.

"Are you sure you're okay having to carry me back up the ramp?" Ruby didn't want to make Kris uncomfortable.

Kris stared at her for a long couple of seconds, that really felt like a life time to Ruby. "I think I can handle carrying you Soho." Kris finally said.

Truth be told Kris was just feeling lucky that Ruby had agreed to the segment. A compelling story that would drive fans to tune in was exactly what she wanted.

"Alright, well I guess I should get changed into my ring gear. Um also my friend Liv told me to tell you hi."

"Is she the one who had the questions about whether or not I'm an alien?" Kris asked, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Ruby blushed but nodded. "I think Liv is just naturally curious. Anybody she thinks is hot or weird, she wants to know everything about them. I guess I don't blame her."

Kris looked amused. "Which one is it?" She asked.

Ruby blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Which one am I? Hot or weird?" Kris asked, finding it hilarious to put Ruby on the spot.

Ruby's blush only deepened and she seemed to shrink back a little, her mouth opening and closing a couple of times like a fish.

Statlander just laughed and winked at her. "I'll let you think on it. See you out there, Soho." Kris replied, before leaving Ruby, so she could go back and meet up with Orange and the rest of her friends.

---

"So you and Soho?"

"Don't ask Chuckie, I don't want to talk about it." Kris mused as they stood ringside, watching Orange Cassidy wrestle Matt Hardy. It was hard to hear over the roar of the crowd, which was good for Kris because she didn't really want to talk about it.

"She's not a bad pick for a tag partner. She looks like she's creative enough to bounce ideas off of." Chuck continued, not taking Kris' cue to drop it.

Kris ignored him, focusing on Orange as he managed to hit the Orange Punch. She wasn't sure she had really been flirting with Ruby, maybe messing with her a little bit about the alien thing. Relationships hadn't really gone well for her in the past and she didn't want to think about how a stupid little work crush could effect that. She highly doubted Ruby had come to AEW looking for anything other than opportunities to wrestle, and Kris wasn't going to get in the way of that.

She made her way backstage once Orange won, and found herself face to face with Britt Baker. Britt gave her a friendly smile, mainly since they were backstage and away from cameras and prying eyes.

"You excited for your new storyline?" Britt asked. She hadn't been filled in on everything, but she knew Kris was going to be making the save once she started beating down Ruby.

"Yeah, I think it'll be fun to mix it up." Kris said, trying not to sound to enthusiastic. "What about you, any chance you'll get to be in a storyline with Adam?" She knew how much Britt had missed her boyfriend when they were in separate promotions.

"It's good to have him here, good to be able to share the road with somebody I love. It's different going on road loops when it's you and your significant other." Britt replied, clearly excited for the prospect. "You'll be getting to travel with Soho now right? I know you usually travel with Orange and the boys."

Kris chuckled softly. "Maybe the car won't smell like feet for once. It'd be nice to get to the arena early for once. Trent always gets us lost." Kris really did love her boys, she was grateful for their friendship. She was excited however to be able to tell a story with Ruby outside of the ring though. To get to try and sell the audience on it, even when they weren't at tapings.

"I wish you luck." Britt said, before brushing past her as her music hit.

Ruby walked to the curtain, surprised to see Kris there already. "Were you waiting for me?"

Kris shook her head. "Nah, not exactly I was just talkin to Britt before the segment. Go kick some butt out there, I'll be watching." Kris said, noting that Ruby looked a little disappointed and crestfallen to find that Kris hadn't been waiting for her.

Ruby schooled her expression into a neutral one as her music hit. "See you out there."

The younger superstar watched the monitors intently as Ruby and Britt cut promos on each other. She had to give it to the two ladies, they were exceptionally talented mic workers. Kris listened as they roasted the ever living daylights out of each other. It was fascinating to watch, because it blended a fair share of personal shots but also wrestling shots as well.

It was so enthralling that Kris almost missed her cue as Britt's lackies, Rebel and Jamie Hayter began to beat down Ruby. Kris shook her head and grabbed a chair running down to rescue Ruby. She cleared the ring, smacking Rebel hard across the back with a chair.

"Thought you weren't coming." Ruby replied with a small laugh, as Kris helped her to her feet. She could see that one of Britt's kicks had actually busted Ruby's lip open.

Kris' eyes narrowed and she lifted her thumb, brushing it over Ruby's split lip. She noted the way Ruby seemed to flinch at the contact. Kris' gaze softened and she rolled out of the ring and then helped Ruby start limping towards the back. About half way up the ramp, Kris scooped Ruby up into her arms bridal style.

The roar of the crowd was almost instant, as if they didn't know what to make of the duo. Kris cracked a small smile and winked down at Ruby as the crowd started chanting for them. It was definitely the reaction they wanted for the beginning of their little arc.

"Hey Stat?"

Kris raised a brow. "Yeah?"

"About your question earlier, regarding which one? I'd say both. A little weird, but definitely hot" Ruby replied cheekily, taking great joy in the way Kris almost stumbled once they reached the top of the ramp.

Kris was thankful for the face paint hiding just how hot her cheeks felt suddenly. She could already tell that traveling with Soho was going to be an adventure.

#Kris Statlander #Ruby Soho #The Alien and the Runaway #Ruby Riott #My words #fanfiction #look a chapter two #maybe I'll cross post on my ao3 #please let me know what you think #aew #aew fanfiction

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theesteemedladydebourgh · 2 years

Note

the way my heart sank when James said “can we talk” and then I scrolled excitedly AND THEN I saw the telltale line and ‘Notes’ heading ;-; I suppose I can’t expect you to write the entire rest of the story in one chapter hahaha (that did already take me 2 days to read… I would have liked to binge it but life ugh) but I can’t help but hope! love love love love it and you and them and I can’t wait for Wednesday in 2 weeks or whenever you decide to bless us with more tftdc <3 xxxx

🥰love you too!

it's looking very hopeful for this Monday (Valentine's Day!), but I do need to kick my butt into gear and write these last few big scenes tonight 🥳

#ask #anon #the first time divorcees club #tftdc spoilers

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

Lead Me

Something about that GIF woowowow ok

This was another request and I think I have one more still to write but I got distracted today by not doing all of my homework that is due on Tuesday (thank God for Easter Monday and Catholic schools)

But here it is!

Here is the original request!

___________________________

“We’re here today with members of Team Canada figure skating! They’re going to be showing our guys some of their moves to see how graceful they can actually be. Something tells me it’s not going to go well for our guys,” One of the PR people for the Flames says to one of the cameras that would be recording you. You were nervous, but this was part of being on the team, so you had to do it. You were a stereotypical figure skater, petite, timid, and quiet. But that played to your strength on the ice, which is why you made the team in the first place. Doing this thing with hockey players who are the exact opposite is what scares you.

The cameramen spread out across the ice as someone from the team staff comes to split the guys up into groups for each of you to teach. Ten guys were being split among five skaters. You got Matthew Tkachuk and Elias Lindholm. You had to teach them a routine that they could do as a pair and the best routine would win skate tying privileges for 30 games. The two of them towered over you, both nearly a foot taller than you. Both could easily crush you if they so much as tripped on you.

“Ok, so, I’m going to teach you a basic routine. You need to start in fifth position, your arms out, your head down, like this,” you say, showing them. You look up to see Elias doing what you asked, Matthew struggling to find his balance. “Matthew, let me help.” You skate over to him and adjust him so he looks like Elias.

His eyes meet yours. For a moment, you felt like Rory and Dean in the first episode of Gilmore Girls, when Rory drops all her stuff on the ground while leaving Stars Hallow High. “Um..” you try to find your words, “So let’s move on to the next part.”

The only words you try to say are those revolving around teaching the two boys the routine, but they kept asking you questions.

“How did you get started with skating?” Matthew asked.

“My family is a big hockey family, so I’ve been skating since I could walk.”

“Why figure skating over hockey?” he pries.

“Look at me?” you say, confused. You were barely over a hundred pounds; you’ve had people tell you in the past that you look like you could break anytime you jump; you would actually be murdered if you even wore all the hockey gear.

“Oh, trust me, I see you,” he says under his breath.

“What?” you say, not quite making it out.

Elias bursts out laughing, Matthew turning bright red, “Yeah, Matthew, I don’t think I heard what you said either.” He playfully pushes Matthew to the side.

“Y/N, I had asked about your family,” he tries to cover and change the subject.

“I have two older brothers, who, like I said, played hockey, but I clearly did something similar but not the same.”

“That’s like me and my siblings; Brady and I play hockey and Taryn plays field hockey. Something similar but not the same.”

You start to smile, “I always wanted to play field hockey,” you admit, and you actually did. No one ever really brought it up in conversation, and you weren’t someone to just spill stuff about yourself.

You guys had downtime anyway, the routine was done and they had run through it twice in its entirety, so you actually didn’t mind the conversation. No one ever really had a conversation with you in a group setting.

“What about school, how did you balance school and skating?” He asks, sitting down on the ice.

You and Elias follow suit, plopping yourself down so you are directly facing him, Elias off to the side, looking giddy for some reason, “I went to a boarding school in America called Miss Porters in Connecticut, then did homeschool when we found out I had a shot at making the national team. What about you?”

“I’m a Catholic schoolboy,” he admits, “Which is what makes me the man I am today.” he pretends to flip his hair, hand movements and all. All it does it shake the wild curls on top of his head.

You can’t help but laugh, “So Catholic school makes you into a man who can’t do a simple figure skating routine?” you tease.

“I beg to differ.” He says, being dramatic, causing you to laugh again. You don’t even notice that Elias has moved further away from the two of you. Either that, or you two moved closer together.

“Uh, let’s just go back over what you guys are doing,” you get up as quick as you can, “You still have half an hour, so might as well work on anything you don’t know?”

“Hey, Y/N. Do you think you can help me with that last move? I want to see you do it with Matthew. You know, so I can see how it’s supposed to be done?” Elias says, smirking.

“Sure?” The last move was trying to be a play on Jason Brown’s 2014 USA National’s routine, Riverdance. The boys were free to act silly, which came easy to them anyway and do a grapevine move while holding each others hands, then turning to face the ‘audience’ and basically trying to do the highest high kicks they could do while still holding on to one another.

Matt skates up to you, taking your hands like he would Elias’, a chill running down your spine as soon as his hands meet yours. “I’m sorry he’s having you do this,” he says, quiet enough that Elias can’t hear as him and the other guys are looking on and whispering. “I’m not normally great at talking with girls, but with you, it’s been kind of easy, right?”

You look up at him, smiling, “Yeah, it has been.” You guys do the end of the routine, but he ends up tripping you. You fall flat on your butt, bursting out laughing. “Oh, my God,” you say between cackles.

“Y/N! Are you ok?” Matthew helps you up, but you double back over, laughing. Elias comes over to check on you, too.

“Yeah, that was just so bad.” you blurt out. You tried your hardest, but there was no way these two were going to get their skates tied.

“It’s not my fault!” Matthew defends himself.

“Your foot was under hers when you were doing the kicks. It is a hundred percent your fault.” Elias said. “I guess you wanted her to fall for you somehow?”

“What?”

“Cut it out,” Matthew says. “Ignore him, he hasn’t had food in two hours. He gets cranky.” Elias just shrugs and skates away from the two of you. The other guys were waiting around to start, but you notice Elias say something, pointing over to the two of you, the guys craning their necks to get a glimpse of the two of you. You don’t even notice that Matthew was trying to talk to you. “Y/N? Did you hear what I just said?”

“Uh, no sorry, I thought they were going to give us instruction.” You lie.

“I was wondering if after this if you’re not busy, we could go grab some food somewhere?”

“Wait,” Your turn to meet his eyes, the sincerity and nervousness of his voice coming through on his face.

“If those idiots don’t scare you into saying no, then yeah.”

“Yeah, I would like that.” You say, smiling, “But I think right now, you have to go humiliate yourself.”

Elias and Matthew did a horrible job with their routine; Matthew forgot to jump when they were supposed to and Elias ended up hitting him in the face. Then, Matthew tripped Elias in the same way that he had tripped you earlier, so you guess it was payback. Intentional or not, the other guys couldn’t contain their laughter, just like you.

One of the guys on the national team came up to you, ”You taught them a routine that would have won, they just gave you idiots, didn’t they?” he says, laughing.

“They’re all idiots, probably. But, they did about as expected.”

“Looks like one of them has his eye on you, though,” he says, pointing to Matthew. The rest of the guys were watching Noah and Johnny try to do a triple axel, something that takes a few years to get down. Matthew, couldn’t seem to take his eyes, off you, smiling.

You just blush and shrug. You really didn’t have any words to say.

Surprisingly, Matthew and Elias ended up winning. The way they did their routine, the guys thought it was intentional that they hit each other. It wasn’t intentional, but it got them their prize, so who really cares?

After everything was finished, Matthew found you while you were wandering trying to find him. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah!” you say, as he takes your hand, leading you out.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

Note

I have another lame request if that's ok? Paul with girlfriend who is a member of rock band?

Oh I love it! There are no lame requests, hon. Don’t even worry about that. Personally, I’ve thought about that a few times before too

Paul with a Rock Band Baby

CONTENT WARNING: Offensive Language, Potential Triggers, Gore! READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

Oh that’s how he met you! Opening for a bad ass concert, he was sold the moment your cute butt stomped out with wildly teased hair, sporting shredded black nylons, biker boots, a leather skirt and a torn up black tank top with your band’s name crudely spray painted on. At first he thought you were a groupie that jumped on the stage- until you slung that gorgeous cherry red six string over your neck. One hand on the mic, taking in a deep breath before you scream

“HELLO SANTA CARLA! We are (Band Name) and we’re here to blow your BRAINS OUT!”

He thought a mermaid had just jumped on stage because your voice utterly hypnotized him. Paul wove through the moshing, dancing crowd screaming. It was a show for the ages, you owned that stage like it was your destiny. They way you shredded just hit him, he hadn’t even realized you guys finished until you bid the crowd farewell. Farwell? Wait! Merch in the back?! Cue him yanking Marko and Dwayne with him. He HAD to meet you!

Star struck was a bit extreme, but that’s only way Marko could describe Paul. Oh boy, they lost him. Paul’s up in space just lost to your feminine charms. Turns out you guys were pretty damn good as a few teenage girls posed with their polaroid camera, eagerly buying up a few T-shirts and then it was their turn.

“Dude, earth to Paul, man,” Marko nudged, snapping him out of it.

“Huh? Oh! Shit!”

“Sooo I’m guessing I should make it out to Paul, right,” you ask with a teasing smile.

Paul has since shown up to every concert you played, always swooping back to speak to you. Eventually you caught on. Honestly, it wasn’t too hard. After all, this guy was always so slick around everyone else but once he talked to you he was tripping over his own feet, getting his bracelet stuck in his hair, nearly knocking over your stacks of CDs. As you help him pick up the scattered photos, he’s going on about what an ass he was when you cut him off.

“Uhm, Paul, do you wanna go out with me this Saturday?”

Did he die? He swore his soul just flew out. Date. Date, a date, a mother fucking date with an angel of rock! Someone punch him he’s gotta be dreaming. Of course he says yes, and it is everything you could hope from a date with him. Schooling his ass in the bumper cars, sharing a big ol’ pink and blue cloud of cotton candy while browsing the music shop, he has to show off at the strength test. When the bell rings he lets you pick out an adorable, floppy armed, little purple elephant with sunglasses that read “Santa Carla Cool” on the lenses. When he kisses you on the Ferris wheel you don’t even realize the massive burst of summer time fireworks they’d launched- you just assumed they were the sparks flying. Well, one kiss wasn’t enough. You two ended up making out all the way to the end of the ride.

You weren’t supposed to find out about him being a vampire, but that night he had no choice. It was after a gig at this club that just opened up on the boardwalk, you had gone to the alley way for a smoke while your boyfriend offered to help the band carry their gear back to your van. Some unhinged fan came up to you. At first he seemed sincere, just kind of skittish. You figure he was just another star-struck fan. Then he professed his undying love for you. Oh, uh...

“L-Look that’s really nice man,” you trail off, starting to inch away from him. “But, I’m sorry, I’m kinda already seeing someone. It’s really nice to meet you though-”

“-What?! No, no, no you’re not supposed to say no! Y-You can’t-!”

Okay time to run. He tried to grab you and you immediately kneed him in the crotch. That kept him for only a minute and he ran after you, snatching you by your hair before you could reach the crowded streets of the boardwalk. No one could hear you scream, you did everything to try and push him off. Kick, flail, thrash, the ominous drag of a zipper striking fear into your heart. Until he stopped.

Gasps, gurgles, then a spray of blood staining both of you. A hand was shoved straight through his stomach, he looked at the hand then back at you easily three times before it retracted yanking out his intestines. The lifeless corpse flopped over next to you and suddenly the air returned to your lungs inflating your screaming again. Holy shit! What the fuck?! Paul was standing above you trying to ask if you were okay. Nope. Not at all. His entire arm was dripping in that guy’s blood, sharp claws replacing his nails. The was nothing compared to his face. His brow and cheeks had raised with the rest sinking in, looking more like an animal than human. Blue eyes were glowing white with dark red circles detailing them, and two sets of fangs sticking out when he spoke. And cue faint.

When you came to, it was some weird old dusty cave filled with decrepit furniture, posters and dirty old paintings- and there was Paul! It was hard not to scream and panic at first. The whole vampire thing was a lot to digest. Of course he tried to excuse it any way he possibly could. You hit your head, the guy was dead when he found him, it was swamp gas! Anything he could to get you to stay. The information was just to much to process and you ran.

Paul is utterly heartbroken, waiting every night for you to show up. But instead you stayed home at your apartment for the next week. He was destroyed, just in a depressed funk the guys couldn't get him out of. David even suggested flying to your place and dragging your sorry butt back but Paul just turned him down.

"It would take two minutes tops, I'm tired of you moping all over the place!"

"What's the point. The music's gone, man. I can't rock out if I don't have my ride or die baby by me"

Meanwhile you had shut yourself in. A vampire. The though terrified you but... all you could do was think about your baby who saved you. You kept seeing not the gore he left behind, but his tear filled eyes every time you slept. You could still hear him screaming for you to come back. It was too much. Vampire or not you needed to see him.

The next time you two reunite its all love. Marko managed to haul his depressed ass out for a ride on the beach but Paul just sulked on the boardwalk. He was practically melting away on his bike when a familiar pair of boots walked up next to him as he stared at the ground.

"Hey rocker," she coos softly. "Is there room for one more on that bike?"

Paul just kisses you and hugs you, jumping off his bike and swooping you into his arms. It's the first time either of you had genuinely smiled in days. The guys leave you two to your dramatic reunion. After all, now you had come to grips with your new vampire boyfriend, they were sure you must have a lot of questions for him.

Paul still comes to every night time concert you have. More so now that you only accepted gigs after dark. It played to your image so no one really questioned it. Recently you’ve been writing some very strange songs. “Bat out of Hell”, “My Dark Prince”, “A Vampire’s Ballad”. They seem to really hit with the teens so your bandmates are living for it. Paul is just ecstatic when he here’s your newest song, “Blonde Beast”. He gushes to the guys every night about his girl writing songs about him, to the point where David has started mimicking Paul because he’s said the same schpiel easily twenty times. Dwayne humors him. His buddy is happy, gush all you want dude, and Marko has started coming to your gigs too. They can’t wait for you to come to the hotel. Or rather, they’re eager for when you decide to join them. What’s more badass than a punk rock singer who’s a vampire?

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heartofsnark · 3 years

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This Is Love (Chapter Ten): The Snakes We Don’t See

Notes: Kinda been sitting on the two most recent chapters, since I like started to write some cyberpunk 2077 stuff. So, thats why its been a while, but given how short the prologue for that fic is, I decided to go ahead and update this this month as well.

Word Count: 13277

Chapter Warnings: Child Abuse (excerpts from the book of joseph), Suicide (non-graphic but still), A body horror dream (my favorite) with some symbolism/implications of sexual assault, discussion of religion, and really really way too blunt on the nose foreshadowing

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

The church and compound look beautiful in the moonlight, Dahlia can’t help but note as she drives Cassie towards it. The modest white buildings and the silver gate work looking beautiful beneath a blanket of stars. It’s not a steady bustle of activity like it was last time, thanks in large part to the late hour, she’s sure. But there’s a few church members meandering around the outside of the church, beyond the gate. Which, to her dismay is being watched by Theodore. It had to be one of the two members who hate her, didn’t it? Because life can’t just kick her in the teeth once and call it done, no, it has to throw in a few extra hits for good measure. The towering man is glaring at her as she comes to a slowed down stop before the gate.

“Though I doubt it’s why you’re here, service is over, so save me a headache and scram.”

“No can do, I gotta talk to Joseph.”

“Pfff,” he scoffs at her, “you arrest me, ruin service, and then come around demanding an audience with The Father. Gotta hand it to you, nothing else, you got balls.”

“Technically, Hudson arrested you, I wasn’t hired yet.”

“You think that helps?”

“Come on man, this ain’t about me.”

He looks past her to Cassie, still holding onto Dahlia’s back, face ducked down to hide away from his amber gaze. Dahlia can see gears turning in his head and he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, you can come through, but only ‘cause The Father likes you.”

“Thanks,” Dahlia parks her bike, Cassie handing her back her helmet before the pair walk into the compound.

“That guy at the gate is kind of…a lot.”

“Eh, he doesn’t like me much, but he’s not that bad. Lonny’s probably the biggest d-bag I’ve met here, Jacob and his…friends, if you can call ‘em that, are a bit rough. But, even then, I’m seen more friendly faces than I’ve seen cruel ones.”

A few people recognize Dahlia from the barbecue, giving her a kind smile and a friendly wave as she passes by in search of Joseph. She returns the kind gestures but stays focused on her goal. Dahlia isn’t quite sure she’s ready to fulfill her promise of stepping foot into the church just yet, but if they’re freshly done with service, that’d be where she’d find him.

“Deputy,” a soft angelic voice speaks out, Faith walking through the compound yard towards them, her hair is done up in plaits with flowers twisted in them, “is everything okay?”

“Uh, not really? I was hoping to talk to Joseph? If he’s around.” Of course he’s around, she’s not sure why she’s acting like there’s a chance he’s not here.

“Sure, I’ll go get him right away.”

She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees him, walking out of the church with Faith beside him, she’s never been happier to see a preacher in her entire life. Dahlia looks over at Cassie and sees the raised eyebrow, which is understandable. Joseph is Joseph, strange and weird, shirtless with a myriad of sins and tattoos etched into his skin, and yellow aviators on despite the silver moonlight that covers them all. But at the moment, that moonlight gives him a halo, a saving grace for a shitty night.

“Deputy, I’m surprised to see you so soon,” Josephs greets her,

“Yeah, I’m sorry to bug you, but I…we,” Dahlia looks back at the still timid Cassie, duffle bag held out in front of her lap, “need some help. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“Of course, if there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”

“Well, Joseph, Faith, this is my friend Cassie, Cassie this is Joseph and Faith,” Dahlia first introduces them

“Hi…” Cassie gives an awkward nod of her head.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Joseph responds with a warm smile, “though I feel there’s more to this than friendly introductions.”

His gaze lingers on Dahlia’s knuckles, still stained with Liam’s blood.

“Okay, so, Cassie’s home life is,” Dahlia pauses and looks to Cassie, searching for words that she might be comfortable with the deputy using, “bad, she’s not safe there. That’s all I’ll say. So, I was letting her stay with me but….recent events mean it ain’t too safe there either.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m sure this has been difficult on the two of you.”

“Difficult is a word for it; but more importantly, I hear Eden’s Gate takes folks in.”

“Deputy…”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, I know it’s short notice, and I-“

A large warm hand grasps her shoulder and she doesn’t flinch, not this time.

“I’m honored you’d come to me for help.”

And she feels his sincerity in his touch, hears it in every word, and sees it in his eyes. It’s hard to believe how much she distrusted him at first, she curses her past for coloring her view. He’s strange certainly, but he’s good.

“So, I take it you can help?”

“Of course, my child.”

“We have plenty of space at the convent,” Faith chimes in with a soft smile, looking from Joseph to Cassie.

“Thank you, thank you, seriously, thank you so much,” Cassie gushes, relief swimming in her dark eyes.

“We can get you settled in tonight.”

“That’s so sweet, I can’t thank you enough.”

“We’re happy to help,” then Joseph’s eyes turn to Dahlia, “will you be alright though, deputy?”

Joseph suddenly catches her hand in his own, brushing his fingers over her bloodied knuckles, no sign of hesitation at the rough sight. Brows furrowed in concern.

“Oh yeah, it’s not mine, don’t worry, uh,” she catches herself, “that sounds bad, but like dude was gonna torch my trailer so, it was like okay to punch him, I think.”

“Wait, what?” Cassie’s eyes go wide as she looks to Dahlia, she must not have seen Liam with the lighter, only Dahlia striking him.

“Yeah, dude was gonna fuckin’ torch the place, so I blacked his eye. More than fair, if you ask me.”

“Okay, first,” Cassie starts and Dahlia smiles as a bit of the girl’s personality peeks through her fear, “I didn’t know it was that bad. Secondly, I don’t think you’re suppose to talk like that in front of a church and it’s preacher.”

“I also shouldn’t have worn a shirt that said ‘hail satan’ to their sermon.”

“You what?”

“Look, in my defense,” Cassie is covering her mouth and laughing, a welcomed sight, “I don’t think, okay, you think I think and I just don’t alright.”

Dahlia is laughing through her own words, face flushed red at being the butt of the joke, but if it can bring a smile to Cassie’s face right now she’d make a thousand more mistakes like it. Faith’s little melodic giggles ring out behind her own hand. Joseph doesn’t laugh but he does smile. With the tension of Cassie’s housing eased, everyone seems in a brighter mood.

“And despite all that, you still like her?” Cassie asks, looking up at Joseph and Faith.

“I’d get mad but like, fair fuckin’ question.”

“I’ve forgiven sins and transgressions far greater than yours, deputy,” Joseph says and his eyes are intense, kind, but the word sins makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It’s not a fun word, but most religions have a ‘everyone’s born a sinner’ mentality. So, surely she can’t be too upset.

“Your patience is both staggering and appreciated, I assure you,” Dahlia tells him, her smile a bit more forced than it was a moment ago. If he can tell he doesn’t say anything.

“Come on Cassie, I’ll introduce you to everyone and we’ll get you settled, okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Faith grabs Cassie’s hand and leads her away with a giggle, the sigh of the flower adorned woman leading her away in the night reminds Dahlia of her odd dream before. The draw of Faith, the siren pulling someone away in the moonlight. But that’s silly, Dahlia tells herself, they’re climbing into a pickup truck drove by another church member, yelling goodbyes to Joseph and Dahlia with smiles on their face. Yet the image of a siren dragging a victim into the sea pricks at her mind, despite how asinine it may be.

Dahlia shakes her head, wondering why her nerves have suddenly ticked up. She’s over this, isn’t she? Eden’s Gate is good, she reminds herself, one of the few good things in this county that’s actually helping people instead of letting them drift into the cracks. Despite everything she’s heard, they’re good. Her personal issues is just fucking with her, that has to be it.

“Are you certain you’ll be okay, Deputy?” Joseph asks as the truck rolls down the curves of the road, disappearing over the horizon, Cassie gone with it.

“Uh, yeah, gave the guy a hell of a shiner so he should cut the shit for a while. Should be fine.”

“Is it?”

“Fuck if I know, but what am I gonna do, sit around and cry about it?”

“I certainly wouldn’t expect you to, but if something does happen, you know you can come to me.”

“Yeah, uh, it means a lot,” Dahlia scratches at the back of her neck, his gaze too intense again, “and thanks again for helping out Cassie. It means a lot, I really don’t know if I can thank you enough.”

“You could always attend church, if you wanted to show thanks.”

“Patient but persistent, I see, but, uh, not quite ready to cash in that promise yet.”

“I understand but, I’d be remiss if I didn’t caution you. My patience may be staggering, but the world is not so kind. Time is finite and you window for finding salvation may be closing quicker than you know.” His voice is fevered and impassioned, hints of a southern accent peeking through as his intensity rises, awash in moonlight the glow of it around turns from a halo to an eerie glow.

“Okay, not holding back, are you?” Dahlia tries to laugh it off, religious folks are just like this sometimes, aren’t they?

“I would be doing you a disservice if I did.”

“So…you think the worlds ending?” She asks, trying to keep her tone light, the only other interpretation of her window closing is Joseph’s convinced she’ll die soon.

“You don’t?” He questions, brows furrowed, as if the idea of the world not ending is ridiculous. And…she kind of gets that.

“I didn’t say that,” she moves to lean her back against the church building, standing next to Joseph instead of before him, looking at the stars, “I mean eventually humans are gonna destroy the planet, climate change, corporate pollution, not to mention us just trying to kill each other half the time. And even if we don’t fuck it up, eventually time will, sun’s going to go to the next stage and destroy the earth. So…”

“You sense it coming, too..” He presses his back against the wood next to her, no longer focusing his stare on her but the moon, maybe he sense her unease with his gaze…

“Yeah…I guess, don’t know when or how, but eventually…”

The itch of nerves under her skin is too strong, she digs a cigarette from it’s pack and lights it, smoking against the church building. John warned her it’s forbidden by Eden’s Gate, that Joseph wouldn’t like such an act, but he doesn’t stop her in the moment. Whether it’s another moment of him showing her kindness or just consideration for her not being apart of the church, she doesn’t know.

“Yet, you still put off salvation.”

“Okay,” she exhales a plume of smoke, “I’ll bite, what’d that fix?”

“When the world collapses those who’ve followed the path to Eden, confessed their sins, atoned, and made their sacrifice will be the ones who walk into the garden, into New Eden. A world cleansed of sin and turmoil. The world will be pure again, free of pain.”

New Eden sounds like their heaven, essentially, to Dahlia. So, nothing truly new by any religious standards. Almost every Christian religion has a doomsday, revelation, apocalypse, end of the world and those who do what god wants get to be super happy in some magic paradise, while everyone else burns. Same stuff, new label.

“Well, as much as your concern for my immortal soul is appreciated, I’m gonna have to pass.”

“You’ll come to understand eventually… I just hope it’s not too late.”

She scratches at the back of her neck again, his words leaving a bad taste in her mouth that mingles with the nicotine, it feels dismissive of her… Like he claims to know her feelings and where they’ll end up better than she does. There’s a habit among those older than her to assume they know how the world works more than she does, she chalks it up to an old man thing, and lets it roll off her back. He still helped her, despite his faults.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree, but I do appreciate everything, I’ll have to when I get a chance call Cassie and see how she’s settles in.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be so simple.”

“What?” She turns to look at Joseph now, raising an eyebrow, why wouldn’t she be able to call Cassie?

“While Cassie is staying with us, we do expect her to abide by our rules. There are no cellphones permitted in the convent, I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh,” Dahlia blinks, “guess that explains why not a single person was on their phone at the barbecue.”

“Smartphones and social media have eroded people’s values, they’re more concerned with it than they are their own family.”

“Okay, okay, I get it; the convent have a landline or Satan manage to get through that too?” His expression hardens, unimpressed by her quip, though she can’t help but smile. After a moment, he sighs.

“There is a landline available there, but it’s typically reserved for church matters. If you wish to check on her, visiting and writing letters would be ideal.”

“Got it, I’ll keep that in mind,” she moves from her spot against the church exterior, “thanks again, Joseph. I’ll talk to you, later.”

“Have a nice night, Deputy.”

“You too.”

Dahlia stubs out her cigarette once she’s outside the compound’s gates, climbing onto her motorcycle. She didn’t realize how isolated Cassie might be there, if she’s not even allowed to call her friend. It just doesn’t sit right. But, Joseph’s far from the only old religious man to claim technology is bad. And if Cassie is living with them, it’s natural to expect her to follow the same guidelines as everyone else. It was already asking a lot for them to house her, it’d be unthinkable to expect special treatment as well.

The trailer park is far calmer when she rides through, damage already done, Dahlia sighs at the sight of all the havoc they caused. It’s already well past midnight, but her night is far from done. There’s glass to be cleaned up and windows to be covered until she can get supplies to fix them properly. She could care less about the spray paint and if needed she can sleep through the chill, but she’d at least like to not sleep on broken glass.

She’s parked and locked up her bike, walking up her porch when she hears the crush of steps, someone clearing their throat. Liam stands, hands in his pockets and a mottle of bruises across his eye. His blues eyes look anywhere but her.

“Dude, seriously, just go. I-”

“I’m sorry…,” he mumbles, clearing his throat again, searching for words, “I didn’t know she was in there, I really didn’t. Clyde said she left out and he hadn’t seen her come back, we thought the place was empty and-”

“And? You could have killed her, ignorance don’t cure third degree burns!” She’s taken steps towards him, nearly yelling in his face now, she can see hurt in his face. He may not have meant to take a life, but in one dumb moment he nearly did and he damn well needs to know that.

“I know, I know, I just…no one got hurt, she, she ain’t hurt, right?”

“No, thank fuck, but that doesn’t make it okay? Even if you didn’t hurt you, you scared the fuck out of her, this was suppose to be a safe place for her and you destroyed that!”

“I’m sorry, okay, I… I can’t fuckin’ say sorry enough and I mean it. I just we were drinking and thought we’d see if we could run ya out of here, it got out of hand.”

“You hate cops, I get that, I do and quite frankly you wanna give me hell, have at it. There ain’t anything you can do to me that hasn’t already been done. But shit like that doesn’t just affect me, hell, you could of set the whole damn place on fire.”

“Yeah, I, fuck I nearly pulled a Sharky.”

“I’m…not sure what you mean by that, ‘cause last thing I saw that man do was…very different. But, uh, if you’re doing that too you should stop.” Her stomach churns at the reminder of Boshaw in his jeep, she really was hoping she repressed that.

“I don’t even wanna know,” Liam shakes his head, “but I am sorry about Cassie…I’d like to apologize to her, if she’s around.”

“Fat chance of that man, I found her another place to stay, she’s somewhere safe and far away from your ass.” The convent isn’t particularly far away, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I deserve that.”

“Fuck yeah, you do.”

“Well, I said my piece, I assume I’ll be seeing the inside of a cell tomorrow?”

She chews her lip for a moment, he strikes her as genuine, in both his remorse and ignorance. He wasn’t trying to become a murderer, he only mean to run her out of the trailer park. And at the end of it all, Cassie is safe.

“Nah man, it’ll be fine, so long as you don’t pull this shit again. You do and I’ll be in jail for killing your ass.”

“Gotcha…thanks…I think.”

“Now, fuck off, I got a mess to clean. Unless you care enough to help?”

“Hell no, have fun, narc,” Liam scoffs at the idea and leaves, clear his remorse was only ever for Cassie’s sake. Asshole. She watches him vanish into his own trailer before finally walking into her own to start on her night of work.

That night and next day are monotonous, mess cleaned up and windows covered just as the sun starts to rise over the horizon. Muscles aching and a damp sweat clinging to her skin, she showers and catches a few hours of sleep. When she wakes up she’s off to the local hardware store and buying what she needs to fix the windows, as well as some damage done inside the trailer.

The sun is setting on the next day by the time all the damage is attended to, well everything but the graffiti of PIG across the outside of the trailer. But, she doesn’t have the energy to wash it away. Lounging around her living room after another shower, Dahlia finds her mind drawn back to Cassie and The Seeds.

No phone calls, only letter writing. It seems so unnecessarily archaic in the modern age, though she may mostly be whining because her handwriting is completely illegible. It’s too late to drop in on the convent, plus she doesn’t particularly want to move. After last night, she likes the idea of a lazy night. And with her long at time hard to predict workdays, it may not be possible to swing by for more than a moment until the weekend.

She doesn’t have to write her letter, at least not by hand, she decides as she opens her laptop. She’ll type it up and print it out at the station, then she can send it like a proper letter, to appease Joseph’s hatred of tech.

“Hey, Cassie, Deputy whatever (did I tell you my last name, legit can’t remember?) here. Joseph said you guys can’t like call? I guess? But you can get letters, so given my handwriting, typing it instead. I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re settling in. Maybe this weekend I can visit? I’ll treat you to lunch.”

That sounds alright, she decides, saving the typed letter. She drums her fingers against the table, searching for something else to maintain her attention. The Book of Joseph with her drawing tucked inside of it is still nearby, Joseph’s lecture of last night coming to mind. Maybe, she could write him a thank you letter? He seems like the kind of guy who’d appreciate that, she opens another document.

“Dear Joseph,

That’s how you format a letter, right? Sorry, social media has “eroded” my soul and the art of letter writing is lost on my generation. That’s a joke, I hope it’s somewhat funny, if not sorry. My handwriting is atrocious, so I hope a typed letter still fits into your beliefs, since I’m trying here. I just wanted to thank you in some small way, despite some of our different beliefs, you’ve been incredibly kind to me and my friend. I read somewhere that drawings can be like gifts? So, I drew something for you. I hope it’s a nice gesture and not creepy, but it can’t be as creepy as the portrait in your book and creepy is kind of your thing, so. Also a joke, I promise I’m trying to be funny not mean… I’ll end this now, thanks again, Me, Cassie, and my eroded damned soul appreciate it. “

Dahlia saves the letter to Joseph, it’s messy and awkward, but so is she. She’ll print and mail them both out tomorrow. Hopefully, she won’t have to put her proper name on an envelope to send it. The idea of no one knowing her name is fun, she wants to play into it. The mysterious deputy who no one knows, sounds way cooler than she is.

She stretches her arms out and puts her laptop aside, grabbing the Book of Joseph, the conversation with Joseph has renewed her interest in learning more about his beliefs. Even if they don’t align, even if she’ll never believe in god, the least she can do is try to understand. She made harsh initial judgments and still struggles with her past effecting her thoughts, making what could be nothing into red flags, this is a way to make amends. Even if Joseph isn’t able to see her efforts, it means something to her, growing as a person.

“Not ice cream trucks, not social services cars, not even police patrols.

In any case. In these parts, people kept their noses out of other people's business, even when that business took place on a porch out in the open.

The father thrashed his arms furiously while the boy, young Joseph Seed stood with his head bowed, contrite and seemingly fixated on the floorboards. If he had looked up, he would have seen the kaleidoscopic colors of an old issue of Spiderman flashing by, alternating with the smooth black leather of his father's Bible and the ruddy face of the father himself. He would have seen the grey teeth-few and far between-of Old Man Seed, as the locals called him, or Old Man Seed behind his back, as Josephs big brother Jacob had snickered to him. Dental care was not a priority in the Seed household. The money was needed for other things. So, his father's teeth always reminded Joseph of the rocky crags that pirate ships washed up on in picture books at the library.”

She tries to see them, a young Joseph and Jacob on their porch. It’s both easy and difficult all at once. A part of her can easily see in her mind, the two young boys with freckled faces and bright blue eyes, one ginger and the other brunette. But, connecting that to who she knows to be Joseph and Jacob Seed is more difficult. It’s always weird to imagine old people when they were young, old to her she should specify. To imagine the mountain that is Jacob Seed as a young boy, laughing behind his abusive father’s back. To see Joseph as a little boy reading comic books and pirate stories. The images seem so far removed from the tall intense older men she knows now.

The life they’ve lived is one she knows well, no media beyond the bible, and beatings for breaking rules. But, her own abuser was more hidden, pretending to be a pillar of the community with his wonderful little church while beating her black and blue behind closed doors. Behind a church following service was the most brazen he ever became; it’s hard to imagine a man bold enough to beat his children in broad daylight on his porch. Though, she has no doubt what she reads is true. She’s seen Joseph’s back, his distaste for shirts making every scar a public display, she knows the lash marks well. Her own back marred with them as well.

It makes her wonder, how they could be so different in their takeaways… Joseph if anything has turned to religion, leading his own church and group, taking issue with the sinfulness of modern media. Though, by no means an abuser, it’s hard to debate that he now shares qualities with his father, if only regarding religiosity.

Dahlia once heard that people grow up to be their parents, particularly their same sex parents. Which is an all at once terrifying prospect for most people, but especially for people like her and the Seeds. The prospect she could be anything like her mother, watching passively as her own child is abused, bending to the will of a man and losing herself completely; is downright terrifying. Dahlia is determined to not let that happen, but it’s still a fear. She can see ways they match; both physically and in certain traits. Dahlia wonders if Joseph sees the way he matches his father and if those qualities scare him too. If he worries his faith has turned him into that same monster. She wonders too about Jacob, if his surliness is a part of that, if he sees any of his father in himself.

“The priority in the Seed household, as everyone in the neighborhood knew, was cheap whiskey, which the father drank from dawn 'til dusk. The more whiskey that went in, the more Bible verses that came out -and the more often his children felt the switch.

The cause of the paternal fury was simple: comics were forbidden in the home - comics and books, records, magazines, radio, and television. Only the Bible was allowed.

Once, when the entire elementary school went to see Gone with the Wind at an old theatre in town, Joseph's father had leapt up in rage like a drunken jack-in-the-box, and before stunned teachers and students, launched into a rambling sermon condemning the sins of Hollywood, insisting this Babylon had long perverted the most fragile of minds and was responsible for the downfall of all of America, with Joseph under one arm and Jacob under the other, he stormed out of the room still hurling curses.”

Dahlia doesn’t have many blessings to count, but Monroe never dragged her from school with a sermon. Only making her withdraw and begin homeschooling the moment he learned the public school had the nerve to provide even shoddy sex education. But she’d take a quiet withdrawal from the system over being physically dragged out before everyone.

“This time, when they arrived home, he beat Jacob only, because he was the eldest and thus responsible for his younger brother. At least the brothers had had time to see Atlanta burn. Thus, when Old Man Seed stood on the porch and began sliding off his belt, the child simply removed his T-shirt, folded it carefully, and bent over to offer his pale, delicate back to the worn-out strap of leather.

Joseph's head was turned toward the well maintained- at least by local standards - house of a quiet, gentle widow. He considered it a blessing, if a small one. Facing the other way, he would have had to look at the other neighbor's house, which even by local standards was so run-down as to be hideous to the eye. When they were younger, the widow used to bake them cakes, probably out of pity for them. The children's mother wasn't exactly an impressive chef. She wasn't exactly a loving mother either. But the widow didn't bake much of anything anymore now that she was dying of cancer. Instead, she spent her days in her porch rocking chair, rain or shine, tottering gently. Jacob and Joseph argued over whether the groaning came from the wooden rocking chair or the old women.”

Dahlia closes the book, marking the page at that point, she can’t deny the intensity of the content and the impact it has on her. She can only stomach so much at a time, trauma too close to her own. Talks of a lackluster mother and the kindness of strangers only adding to it all. Maybe one day she’ll talk to Joseph about this, how he can bless those who hurt him in such a way, how he has managed to be so open about it. It all seems to be a level of maturity she can’t imagine reaching, how much work and growth does it take to accomplish that?

She falls asleep that night thinking of just how much work she has left to do, just how far she has to go as a person. How long will it take her to be okay with her past? Thoughts fade to black as she succumbs to her heavy eyelids.

The sun is bright and high in the bright blue sky, deceptively cherry for what her and Pratt are being called out to. Despite shifting opinions on Joseph, she can’t deny that the statue still creeps her the fuck out. As they drive further upward, the sheer scale of the cement monument takes her breath away. How much time and work went into that? Joseph doesn’t seem to have an ego, but to an outsider this downright makes him look like a narcissist. They don’t go fully up the mountain, where the trail forms stone circular steps and rings around the base of the statue. From where they park, she can see gazebos with flowers woven into them that line the open space around it.

There’s a small crowd waiting for them at the base of the mountainside the statue is built on, a section of it just beneath the stone Joseph’s hand is carved slightly down. Ledges with spots to grapple along comes down to the ground. The statue blocks out the sun when they stand beneath it, the visage of Joseph towering over them like a kaiju is both terrifying and hilarious to the young deputy.

The ambulance is already there, body bag being brought inside of it, sparing the deputies from seeing what remained of the person after they jumped. Rocky ground where the man would have hit is painted with a white Eden’s Gate symbol, blood now staining the dark rock and white paint.

Faith and a few Eden’s Gate members are nearby. The youngest Seed sits on a stone, adorned in one of her delicate white dresses, her blonde hair pulls back in a soft ponytail today. Her feet are still bare, as if someone’s blood isn’t mere inches from her, as if a body bag isn’t being rolled into an ambulance. Faith leans back on her hands, humming softly, kicking her feet gently in tune to her little song. Does this even faze her?

“Not much to do here,” the EMT tells Pratt and Dahlia, “another suicide, guy hit his head off the cliff before he even reached the ground, dead on arrival.”

“This happen a lot?” Dahlia asks, looking between Pratt and the EMT. They talked as if this happens every day.

“Kinda, “ Pratt admits, “I mean, it’s easy to access and tall as fuck, people have been jumping off to die since the peggies finished building it.”

“Hope County’s version of The Golden Gate Bridge.”

“That’s…fucked.”

“We gotta get to the morgue, call the next of kin, don’t know if there’s much else for you all to handle.”

“Alright, thanks for the help.”

Pratt and Dahlia wave off the EMT as the ambulance drives away; leaving the deputies with Faith and the Eden’s Gate members. It’s only natural to ask the owners of the statue a few questions, if they saw or heard anything. Faith seems to know this, given her soft smile as she waits for them, this really must be a normal occurrence.

“Hello, deputies,” she greets them as they wander off, “it’s a shame really, that a symbol of hope is used by the hopeless to end their own suffering.”

“I’m sure your heart is breaking, but, don’t suppose there’s any chance you saw anything?’

“No, I’m afraid no one was here this morning or late last night.”

“Of course,” Pratt says, more annoyed than anything and if this is the typical, Dahlia can understand why. There’s not much they can really do, it’s a tragedy, but unless there was another party involved it’s not really a police matter.

But, Dahlia wonders why the statue is so enticing a spot for suicide? It’s tall of course, the fall is a certain death. But, there are so many bridges around as well, not that she’s in that mental state at the moment but she imagines falling into water to die would be more enticing than hitting rock. And it’s odd as well, that the impact spot is marked with their symbol.

“Why is the ground painted?”

“Hmm?” Faith hums out an inquisitive noise, blinking at the deputy’s sudden question.

“The ground here, your church symbol is on it, I was just wondering why? Doesn’t seem like you can or would do much in this exact spot?”

Dahlia’s reminded of a bible passage, one of many she recalls from her childhood. The story of Satan trying to tempt Jesus to jump from a high cliff in Jerusalem, that if he’s truly the child of god he’d be safe, to give a leap of faith. It sticks in the back of her mind, nagging at her, surely that wouldn’t be a thing?

“Oh, I know it’s silly, but we like to put our symbol of hope and faith wherever we can, even in the smallest of places.”

“Uh, this isn’t like a thing, is it?” Dahlia asks before she can stop herself.

“Rook,” Pratt scolds her for the accusatory question. But Faith giggles.

“You really have a vivid imagination, don’t you, Rook? I don’t imagine we’d keep many members if we were pushing them off a statue.”

“Yeah, sorry,” that was dumb, Dahlia realizes the second she hears it out loud, “I think I’ve been watching too many horror movies.”

“Next, you’ll be accusing us of drugging our members,” Faith says, giggling with a soft smile on her face and Dahlia laughs along, yeah, she’s being ridiculous.

“Okay, well with that out of the way, we’ll get out of your hair,” Pratt speaks up, ready to go back to the station, not that there was much for them to do.

“Uh, actually, I did wanna ask you something, real quick, about Cassie,” Dahlia pipes up, before they leave. Pratt raises an eyebrow, looking at Dahlia.

“She’s settling in really well, she already feels like a part of the family, I assure you.” Faith squeezes Dahlia’s shoulder, warm in it’s reassurance.

“Thanks, I’m hoping I can visit before too long.”

“Oh, that’d be wonderful!” Faith captures both of Dahlia’s hands this time, grinning and stepping into the deputy’s personal space. Her and Joseph are both so touchy, it catches her off guard.

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you Faith, but we really need to be headed back now, c’mon, Rook.”

“Coming,” Dahlia calls out following behind a fast walking Pratt, one final wave goodbye to Faith.

Dahlia is fastening her seat belt in the cruiser, Pratt starting up the engine and taking them back down that winding road. There’s a palpable tension that eases with every step away from that statue. Whoever at Eden’s Gate approved it is ridiculous.

“Didn’t know you and Faith were so close.”

“We get along alright, her and Joseph helped me out this weekend.”

“What, you ditch the barbecue to hang out with peggies?”

“No,” she rolls her eyes, “my friend Cassie was staying with me, some shit happened at the Moonflower, they offered to help her out.”

“Since when do you have friends?”

“Hahaha, hilarious. Look, it’s not like I planned for shit to go sideways, why do you even care?”

“I don’t.”

“Sure seems like you do.”

“I don’t, you wanna run around with peggies, that’s your business, but it’s not gonna do you any favors around here.”

“Oh no, are the popular girls not gonna like me if I sit with the peggies?” Dahlia says with mock worry, pressing her hand to her chest. What kind of high school bullshit is this?

“Shut up, I’m fuckin’ serious, the only people who like peggies are peggies. Since when do you like that shit anyway?”

“I don’t like it, I’m not into religion, you know that. Just, I don’t know, doesn’t mean they aren’t chill.”

“Eden’s Gate is not fuckin’ chill, they’re weird and a pain in the ass.”

“They’re definitely weird, you know social media has eroded my soul?”

��What they find out you shared John’s shitty commercial on Twitter?”

“Huh, no? How’d you know that?” Dahlia’s careful to keep herself hard to identify online, her Twitter has no name, job, or location. Though, unless Eden’s Gate is broadcasting their cheesy crap all over the nation, that’d be easy for a Hope County Native too figure out.

“Petunia’s your icon on there.”

“I didn’t realize you could tell the difference in opossums.” In Dahlia’s defense, Petunia looked adorable eating her lunch that day and again, she assumed anyone would just think it was a random opossum picture.

“I know Petunia when I see her, give me some credit,” he rolls his eyes, “you know John’s gonna kill you if he does find out.”

“Well, it’s a damn good thing Eden’s Gate doesn’t use social media then.”

“Ah, yes, because as we all know no one ever disobeys their religion. I for one am still a picture perfect altar boy.”

“Loo-you’re Catholic?” The realization hits her and she looks bewildered at her partner’s profile. Granted, she rarely thinks about anyone’s religion, but for Pratt it seems all the more confusing. He hardly seems religious by any standard.

“I was raised Catholic,” he specifies and she nods her head, “Joey was too.”

“Neither of you are anymore?”

“I really can’t be bothered to give a fuck about it anymore, it is what it is, pretty sure Joey completely gave up on any of it.”

“There’s not a lot of practicing Catholics in this area, is there?” She’s pretty sure Montana is mostly protestants.

“No, the church in Falls End is Hope’s Catholic church, and it’s always been small. Me and Joey were damn near the only kids even.”

Dahlia can’t help but smile, thinking of Hudson and Pratt as kids. She always had the feeling they’d known each other for a long while, both talking about Hope County like they’ve been here all their lives. Hudson is a little older, but not much, so it just makes sense that in this small a place they’d known each other as children.

“How long have you guys known each other?”

“We playing fifty questions or something?”

“I’m curious!”

“No, your turn asshole. You wanna grill me on religion and shit, you get it back.”

“You already know how I feel about religion.”

“I know you didn’t wanna go to church and were a weirdo about it, that’s it.”

“Uhh,” she breathes, he’s right that it’s only fair to answer the same questions he answered for her, “my actual dad was Catholic, my mom was Jewish, then she remarried a fundie Preacher, Pentecostal, so that’s how I was raised, unfortunately.”

“So, you were zigzagged all over as far as that goes.”

“Eh, I mean, before she remarried, neither my mother or dad were like devout or felt they had to raise me a certain way. Like, I think I vaguely remember getting both Christmas and Hannukah when I was three?” She tries to pull up the fuzzy memory of when her mother, back when she was a true mother, helped her light a menorah and her dad hoisted her up to put a star on a modest Christmas tree.

“You believe in anything nowadays.”

“I consider myself an atheist at best.”

“At worst?”

“Well, if god does exist, he’s an asshole and I’d like to break his nose.”

That gets a laugh out of Pratt and Dahlia grins, she knows it sounds silly, but it’s true. How she genuinely feels, she doesn’t think anyone is watching over them, no singular or multiple gods, but if any creator can watch idly by as everyone suffers… Not someone she’d want to be worshipping, quite frankly.

The day winds down with little else for the deputies to do. Beyond the station windows the sky starts to turn pink, sun setting on another workday. Dahlia is fiddling with her phone, walking out of the station.

“You coming to The Spread Eagle tonight,” Hudson asks her, “I know you haven’t really been since that asshole gave you a hard time.”

“Oh uh, yeah, I could tag along.” Dahlia scratches at the back of her neck, feeling the heat climb up her face. She can see concern in Hudson’s olive-green eyes, which isn’t helping the blush across the young deputy’s face.

“C’mon then, probie,” Pratt calls out, giving Dahlia a playful smack on the shoulder as he passes by.

It’s the usual sight as Stray walks into The Spread Eagle; rock-folk music on the Jukebox tonight, couples dancing or sharing drinks, workers in flannels and dirty boots grabbing a drink after a long day. They slide into their usual seats, the youngest deputy between her two superiors, there’s a warmth to the low lights and wood interior. Mary May’s soft smile greeting them as she serves the rest of the patrons.

“I don't care if it rains!

Let's all go to the bar!

I don't care if there's a hurricane!

Let's all go to the bar!”

“I’ve been stuck on desk duty all day,” Hudson speaks over the music, starting the evening conversation with a groan, “so please tell me you two had something interesting happen.”

“Suicide out at Joseph’s statue, that’s about it.” Dahlia shrugs, nothing else really of note.

“Ugh, if I was near that statue I’d kill myself too.”

“It gives my heebie jeebies the heebie jeebies, not gonna lie.”

“Really, Rook, but Joseph’s your new best friend, remember?” Pratt cuts in to taunt the Junior Deputy.

“I have a finger for you.”

“You aren’t buddying up with the Seeds, are you deputy?” Mary May’s voice rings out as she sets drinks and food in front of the three officers, they hadn’t even ordered yet. Dahlia’s seen her do it with Hudson and Pratt, knowing the two deputy’s order inherently after years of routine. But it’s the first time she’s done it for Dahlia, knowing the youngest deputy’s favorite burger and soda. It’s nice and she’d love to spend a moment appreciating the coziness of it, but the weight of the bartender’s question hangs in the air.

“No,” Dahlia assures her, though a part of her feels guilty, as if she’s compromising loyalties, “they helped me and a friend out, that’s all.”

“Eden’s Gate doesn’t help anyone without expecting something in return, I know you’re new around here, deputy, but you need to be careful around them. They’ll do anything to have another cop wrapped around their finger.”

“Woah woah,” Dahlia holds her hands up in mock surrender, “it was just a little favor, nothing big I promise.”

“You don’t get it, that fami-“

“I think Merle is trying to flag you down for another beer,” Pratt interjects, saving Dahlia from the rest of the lecture.

“Yeah, uh, just be careful, deputy.” With that Mary May leaves them to serve Merle, some man with a mullet, another beer.

“Sorry about that,” Pratt says, “forgot how weird she gets about the Seeds.”

“Can’t blame her for it though, John Seed’s had it out for her family since they came here.”

“I would like to change the subject.”

“Pfft,” Pratt stifles a laugh at her blunt declaration, “alright, we can do that.”

“Well, okay, how’d your break go?”

“Mostly boring, other than when Pratt took me flying.”

“You took her up in the helicopter?” Hudson asks, raising an eyebrow at the male deputy over Dahlia’s shoulder.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“You seriously pulled that move on her?”

“Shut up.”

“Move?”

“Pratt has a habit of bringing girls up in the helicopter, don’t you?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know it was fun, though.” Dahlia shrugs, she doesn’t really care if he brings other people up in the helicopter. She’s not really sure how it’s relevant or what Hudson means by it being a move; she had fun with her friend and he cheered her up.

“Hear that, Joey, it was fun. Don’t put weird ideas in Rookie’s head. “

“Oh yeah, blame me.”

“So, anything interesting happen at the station while I was gone?”

“Well,” Hudson smirks, mischief in her eyes as she glances at Pratt again.

“She doesn’t need to know about that.”

“I think she does, the day after you went on leave-”

“I’d like to change the subject,” Pratt cuts Hudson off, mimicking Dahlia from earlier.

“I don’t even know what the subject is yet!” The youngest deputy objects, laughing.

“Well, a certain someone’s mom felt the need to come down to the station and let Whitehorse know just how wrong he is to put her precious son in harm’s way.”

“Oh my god,” Dahlia says, unable to resist smiling, while Pratt’s buried his head in his hands, “your mom came to the station?”

“Yes, yes, laugh it up.”

“You call me a child and you have your mommy checking in on you at work?”

“I didn’t invite her!”

Pratt’s face is flushed bright red while Hudson and Dahlia laugh at his expense, but despite the embarrassing aspect, Dahlia can’t help but think it’s a little endearing. His mom must really love him.

“She worry about you a lot?” Dahlia asks, core aching from laughing.

“Ugh, that’s a fuckin’ understatement.”

“Mama Pratt’s always been a little too worried about her baby boy,” Hudson taunts, reaching over the table to pinch at Pratt’s cheek, only for him to smack her hands away.

“I’m sure that went over great when you went into law enforcement.”

“She still gets furious at Whitehorse for putting us in danger.”

“Us?”

“She wasn’t very happy about me becoming a cop either,” Hudson admits and that makes sense, given what Pratt’s told Dahlia about them being close as kids, surely she’d be close to his mother.

“And if she meets you, she’ll be in Whitehorse’s ear again.”

“Huh?”

“I can hear it now, ‘how could you put that little girl in danger, what’s wrong with you?’” Hudson tries her best to mimic Pratt’s mother, grinning at the ridiculousness of it, and despite herself…the idea of his mom doting on her the way she would Hudson. As if Dahlia could be as close to either of them, even if the idea of being seen as a vulnerable little girl is a bit patronizing.

“Not gonna lie, I really want to meet your mom now.”

“No.”

“C’mon!”

“No, not in a million years, I get enough hell from Joey and Beau, I don’t need it from you too.”

Their conversation continues late into the evening as it so often does, just a few hours shy of staying until closing, early mornings the only thing that keeps them from staying later. Around the same time as they have every other night, they leave and say their goodbyes. Pratt and Hudson heading back to the small set of apartment housing that resides in the little town, while the youngest deputy rides back to the trailer park.

She stops at the mailboxes, in the registration building, rows of them with their lot numbers associated with them. The printed letters for Cassie and Joseph heavy in her pocket. A part of her does feel guilty, mostly to Mary May, but it’s not as if they’re close friends and the bartender can’t expect Dahlia to avoid an entire family because of hearsay. And it’s not as if she’s joining up or spending every moment with them. She shakes her head, stupid feelings, it’s not as if she has to choose sides. She can be thankful for the Seed’s help and still get along with Mary May. She tucks the letters inside her mailbox to be sent out then heads into her trailer, throwing herself down on her couch to sleep for the night.

Hands on her, groping and prodding on Dahlia’s bare body. She screams and fights against them, unable to see whom they belong to, a mystery hidden by the logic of a dream. They feel different, but she sees no difference, each pair ink black as if monsters reaching from the void to defile her. They claw and grab; scratching over her ribs, locking fingers around her throat, squeezing at her thighs, and pressing over her mouth. The hands are everywhere and they smear black across her skin, smears and filth, reminders of their violation. They stain her skin, mark her flesh, and leave the aftermath of their violence on her body.

And she fights. She kicks and she pulls, but it only spurs them to grab her more. Dahlia lashes out at the void that touches her, but it does not retreat. She bites at the ink fingers that push into her tongue, but the digits only press deeper in, sliding into her throat.

She can’t be sure if she breaks away or they let her go, but their touch is gone, Dahlia dropping to her knees as if they were the only thing supporting her. Inky black slick across her skin where they touched her, heavy even on her tongue, finger prints within them.

And she wretches as flowers bloom from the stains they’d left on her. Small blue flowers blossom forth bursting through the flesh of her tongue, sprouting from her throat and gagging her, soft petals falling from her lips. Those same vibrant blue flowers burst forth from her throat where she was choked.

Red flowers bloom out from the flesh of her ribs, stacked blossoms along a single stem cutting through the tender skin, like blades. They follow the curve of the bones within her, just long beneath her breast where rough hands had torn at her skin.

White petals, the most familiar as they recur so often and are a constant sight within the county. They grow through the plush of her thighs, not even blood or black tarnishing them as they push through her skin. They wind and weave as they come through like petal ropes around her .

And her heart staggers a beat as a sunflower grows within it, then through her chest, a vivid yellow. Her eye burns, a pressure behind it as another great yellow bloom grows behind it, piercing the fragile membrane, blood falling from her socket, vision in the eye obscured from the flower that’s taken it’s place.

She’s awash of yellows, blues, whites, and reds. Turned into a cruel art piece, body aching as her skin is open, her lungs choked, her heart stuttering to beat, and body protesting in agony.

And she snaps awake, not jolting from her couch but twisting with a heavy cough, phantom tickles within her throat. She gags on something that doesn’t exist, heartbeat thundering and lungs burning. Dahlia takes a moment to gather herself, a cold sweat still clinging to her skin. Her clock informs her it’s four in the morning.

She pushes back the hair that’s fallen into her face and lights up a cigarette, inhaling nicotine to ease her shaky body and frayed nerves. These dreams have only been getting more frequent and they’re starting to fuck with her. She can’t live with having a heart attack every other night and barely getting sleep.

Once she’s filled her lungs with smoke, let the burning cigarette nearly singe her fingers before she tosses it out. Dahlia throws on the lights, blinking through the way it blinds her after so long of darkness, but she ignores the sleep heavy in her eyes as she grabs her drawing pad, sitting at her coffee table on the floor letting her mind lead her hand.

Sunflowers she knows, the flower iconic enough in identity for her to know it and with the white flowers being so around the county, she could easily be able to figure out what they are. She thinks they’re called moonflowers, given the name of the trailer park and that a field of them surround them. But she sketches them out, along with the other flowers she saw. Four types of flowers on the page. She needs to get them on paper while they’re fresh in her mind. And then in the crux of them all, she draws out the layered ones from her previous dreams.

She plans on looking them up, flowers have significance and meaning, she’s heard that before that people can plan bouquets to communicate messages. She’s never cared about flowers in her entire life, so she has no idea why on earth they’d such a recurring theme in her dreams be.

Dahlia feels more relaxed now that she’s smoked and gotten the images of the flowers on paper. She’ll search for her answers later, after she’s gotten more sleep. Nerves and body relaxed, she curls back up on her couch, letting herself fall into a dreamless sleep.

It’s a few hours past noon the next day, a slow day of just tickets, the young deputy’s head is against her own seatbelt. Her eyes are starting to close despite the amount of energy drinks she’s consumed. She managed to salvage a few hours of restful sleep, but not nearly enough to keep her awake through an already boring day. Her eyelids are impossibly heavy, each blink growing longer and longer.

“Rook!”

“I’m awake!” Dahlia says with a jolt, Pratt’s voice and a shake of her shoulder waking her back up.

“Are you?” Pratt asks while laughing and she pinches at the bridge of her nose, a headache coming on.

“I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“What were doing?”

“Wasn’t doing nothing; just bad dream,” she tells him, shrugging.

“Units near the Orchard please respond,” Nancy from dispatch’s voice crackles over their radio, they’re still in the Valley and maybe five minutes from the giant orchard.

“Deputy Pratt responding.”

“Debbie and Doug called in a robbery, suspect has fled the scene, but they’re still requesting an officer to file a report.”

“We’ll be there shortly,” he hangs up the receiver, “wake up, Rookie, we have to actually work today.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe,” he admits, acknowledging that it’ll likely just be an hour of talking, writing down a report, and then leaving.

They drive past the pumpkin farm, Dahlia unable to resist smiling when she sees Boomer playing with his owners, weaving through the gourds. She’s reminded of her first day, stopping to pet the dog to dispel her own nerves. Then the apple trees filter in, bright red and shining in the light. Each tree is overflowing, a few crates out fill with the fruit, apples that have fallen on the ground.

Pratt pulls up to the orchard’s packing facility past the market stall that advertises cider tasting. There’s a man and woman standing in front of the large open packing facility; the building painted red with green roofing, the open doors showing the crates and machines. The smell of crisp apples hits Dahlia as she gets out of the cruiser, mixing with the fresh air, she feels more awake than she was before. Rarely, but sometimes, the beauty of the county manages to lift her spirits.

“What’s going on?” Pratt asks the couple.

“Someone,” Debbie gives a pointed look at her husband Doug, arms crossed, “left the office key in the stall again, next thing we know, someone cleared out our safe.”

“Hey, don’t blame me.”

“Well who the fuck am I suppose to blame?”

“That fuckin’ church would be a goddamn start.”

The tension is palpable as the couple argues, body language tight and wrought with frustration. Stray can’t tell if Debbie is about to cry or scream, maybe both. Doug looks as if he’d like to rip the earth up and bury himself beneath it.

“Everybody calm down, did anyone see anything suspicious?”

“John fuckin’ Seed and his band of goons were here earlier, no one saw him grab the key, but no one else would have. Son of a bitch has it out for us.”

“Alright, you wanna take me back to the office, I’ll have a look around,” Pratt asks Doug.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“You mind staying out here and talking to me, Debbie?” Dahlia offers, she’s not the most comforting person in the world, but the older woman clearly needs to get some stuff off her chest.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

Doug and Pratt go back to the office within the packing facility, leaving Dahlia alone with Debbie.

“Lets find a place to sit down and just breathe for a minute, alright?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Debbie agree and Dahlia places what she hopes to be a comforting hand on the woman’s back, guiding her into the market stall where she saw benches.

She settles in across from Debbie, who wrings her hands together.

“No pressure and you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but if you need an ear, I’m willing to listen.”

“Don’t even know where to start, ever since John Seed set his sights on the orchard, it’s been a nightmare.”

“He been making life hard for you?”

“That’s the understatement of the god damn century, that church has been buying up properties since they got here. The railyard, the old summer camp, the veterans center, the conservatory; list goes on…I use to wonder why everyone sold out to them, but I fuckin’ get it now.”

“They’re persistent?”

“They’re fucking heartless. Me and Doug built this place from the ground up; John Seed made an offer and we said no. Next thing we know; roads are blocked so our shipments can’t go out, they buy up the fertilizer plant and we can’t use it to help the new crops, cargo trucks are toting away product in the dead of night, and now this shit. We’ve been hemorrhaging cash ever since he set his sights on us. Got an attorney involved and all they did was charge us.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you.”

“We had a good year for crops, thought we’d break even if nothing else, then what little we got was taken. I can’t even pay my god damn workers, we’ve had to let go of folks who’ve been here for years because they couldn’t keep working for free cider.”

The woman lets out a breath, body deflating as she finally gets everything off her chest, but her blue eyes are brimming with tears. Dahlia offers her a tissue from her pocket, not sure what else she can do, watching the woman dab at her eyes. Despite the help Joseph and his church has given to Dahlia and Cassie, this sort of behavior can’t be enabled. Theodore was stealing booze from The Spread Eagle, on the order of John Seed, when she first came here. Lonny hasn’t exactly been shy about insinuating he should just be allowed to take her motorcycle. So, it’s not far fetched to imagine them getting greedy. As ironic as it is to attach a sin to church goers.

“They can’t do that shit.”

“But they do, no evidence though, nothing can be done. If the cops even bother to show up, no offense, but a lot of your station ain’t doing their fucking jobs.”

“No offense taken, I’m not gonna sit here and tell you every cops here for the right reasons. But, uh, if there’s something I can do to help, I want to.”

“Short of a miracle, I don’t think there’s much we can do. Take John’s next offer, try to fuckin’ survive.”

“There has to be a way for you guys to keep the orchard,” Dahlia murmurs more to herself than Debbie, at the end of it all the young deputy doesn’t have a dog in the fight. But, her heart does break for the couple and she wants to find some way to help.

“I’m willing to try anything at this point.”

“Ever think of doing any kind of apple festival or something? I mean people do that, sounds nicer than one for testicles.”

“Pssh,” she laughs a little at the way Dahlia wrinkles her nose, “it’d take a lot of work to get something like that set up.”

“I mean, do you really think the rest of the county won’t come together to help, you can do stands, have food, games, charge some money. I mean, it’s an idea.”

“We got stands for the market, don’t know if I can cook for a whole county though, if they even show.”

“Do you think Casey or Chad would help out?” Dahlia brings up the cooks from the Spread Eagle and Grill Steak. Small communities are suppose to come together in times of crisis, that’s the hope at least. Lloyd always told her that’s what he loved about Hope County and Reinette, everyone’s willing to pitch in.

“Maybe… Casey knows the runners of the Testy Festy too, he could help up get vendors and games set up, I…ya think we can actually do this?”

“Way I see it, best case scenario, it gets you through the rough spot, sticks it to John Seed, and you could do it every year for an income boost. Worst case scenario, you go down swinging, having some fun, and with friends by your side,” Dahlia tells her honestly with a shrug, she doesn’t want to give false hope, but even in worst case scenario, it’s worth it to go down swinging.

“That’s,” she smiles, tears clearing, she looks hopeful finally, “that’s hard to argue with, you gonna help?”

“Of course, I can see about talking to Casey tonight even.”

“Deb?” Doug’s voice calls out and the women leave the market stall, Doug and Pratt have come back from the office Pratt raises an eyebrow, eye drifting from the now happy Debbie, to Dahlia. Silently asking her what the hell happened.

“There wasn’t anything that can pin it on anyone, no security footage or prints, sorry,” Pratt tells her.

“I figured… Doug, me and Deputy….” she searches for Dahlia’s name only to realize she doesn’t know it, “…her have been talking, what do you think about throwing together a festival?”

“A festival?”

“Yeah, we could get the county together, might just be what saves this place. I…just…I don’t wanna give up yet. She said she’d help, I think, I think we can do this.”

“We’d need to move fast and a festival take a lot of time to set up.”

“I mean, we get enough people on board, I can’t see why we can have it ready to go by, next Friday, the 10th?” Dahlia cuts in to help, that’d give them a little over a week, short notice but not impossible.

“You planning on helping?”

“Of course,”Dahlia beams, but no reason she can’t volunteer some more help, she throws an arm over Pratt’s shoulder, “we’d both be happy to help anyway we can.”

“What?” Pratt asks blankly and she just gives him a friendly smack on the chest, if he can force her into a church barbecue, she can damn well rope him into helping a local business.

“Well then, I think next Friday could work,” Doug admits.

“We could hold it Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. An entire weekend for everyone to come together, have some fun and maybe save this place,” Debbie tells him, smiling wide.

“Okay, lets do it.”

“Hell yeah.” Dahlia grins, the formerly frustrated and desperate couple are now smiling bright as can be. Warmth is burning in the rookie deputy’s chest, proud that she can help them get those smiles back.

“Yeah…well, guess I can help,” Pratt admits, still glaring at Dahlia in his peripheral, she’s just amazed he hasn’t pushed her off of him yet.

“I’ll try to talk to Casey tonight, if the bars too busy, I’ll try tomorrow. Then I’ll get in touch with Chad, ask around about music, games, anything we could need.”

“Gotta find a way to advertise it.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Dahlia tells them, confident she can put it together, “you guys worry about getting the orchard set up, getting food, cider, prices, and all that figured out. And if you need anything just call down to the station and ask for Rook.”

“Thank you, seriously, both of you.”

“No problem,” Pratt says, though there’s a sigh in his voice, “our probie here just loves to help people.”

“Well, it is my job, speaking of which, you said the church is blocking the roads?”

“Yeah, our trucks can’t even get a shipment out.”

“Do you know where they’re set up?”

“Yeah, the road that leads from Holland valley out to Missoula, if you follow it far enough, why?”

“Public roads legally can’t be blocked,” Pratt explains for her.

“So, we’re gonna pay them a quick visit.”

“Thanks again, we’ll be in touch, Deputy.”

They wave off the couple, saying their goodbyes as they climb back into the cruiser. A beat of silence passes without Pratt starting the engine.

“What the fuck, Rook?”

“What?”

“You know your getting yourself into deep shit, right? Pissing off the church right after they helped you out?”

“Them helping me out ain’t a free pass to do whatever they want. I can get along with someone and still hold them accountable for their bullshit. They have no right trying to railroad Debbie and Doug like that.”

“And you have no right dragging me into it.”

“You volunteered me for the fuckin’ church barbecue.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“We were off the clock, not work hours.”

“What about trying to pressure me into going to the Rye barbecue, while at Redlers, technically on the clock.”

“That was also different.”

“How?”

“’Cause you’re the rookie and I’m allowed to be mean to you.”

“No, that is not how that works!”

“Is too, the entire point of hiring rookie cops is to hassle them, you don’t get to hassle back.”

“Well, too bad, fucker we’re throwing an apple festival.”

“Jesus christ.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“It’ll be a pain in my ass,” he says, grumbling as he starts the engine, taking off out of the orchard.

Dahlia sticks her tongue out at him as they wind through the roads. Apple trees become the usual firs and pines, road signs starting to indicate they’re in route to Missoula. The young deputy watches the woods pass by, where the trees meet the blue sky, farmland occasionally breaking the landscape with cows meandering around.

It’s not long before they come to a stop and sure enough, large slabs of concrete are across the roadway. White trucks bearing the Eden’s Gate symbol are slotted behind them, black flags with the symbol in white stream from the back, and sturdier white vans are nearby as well. Members of the church are gathered there, woman with overgrown hair and men with hairy faces, a few she recognizes. All looking at the stopped cruiser with some measure of anger or worry.

“Hey, deputy,” it’s Waylon who greets Dahlia, smiling at her, “what seems to be the issue?”

“Your blocking public roads,” Pratt is the one to answer.

“Oh, see the thing if, the church is having some property worked on nearby. So, we really can’t have anyone driving through here, it’s temporary of course.”

“You can’t do that, though,” Dahlia explains, “if you need to fence off private property, you need to do it along the property line. Unless you have permission from the state, you cannot block public road access.”

“Deputy please, surely you understand.”

“Waylon,” she puts a hand on his shoulder, “you know we get along and I don’t have anything against the church, but blocking the road affects everyone else. If you really need roads blocked off, you need to contact the right people and get permits first, okay?”

“Understood.”

“Okay, then, just clear out and everything will be fine.”

He doesn’t seem happy, none of the church members do, but that’s the rules. She can’t even understand why’d they ever need to block the roads, if she didn’t know any better she’d think they were trying to keep people from leaving.

They drive the trucks and vans away; Dahlia and Pratt even helping move the concrete blockades off the road. Why do they even have those?

There’s still a sour note in the air once the block is cleared and the deputies have pulled away. She hates this weird back and forth; the church helping her but then doing something that gives her reason to doubt them. Wanting to be their friend but needing to put her foot down; wanting them and both the people who hate them to like her. Torn between the two as well as her child; like an unfortunate child in the midst of their parent’s divorce and she’s being forced to choose one.

It’s getting close to evening, when they pull up to the station to put in the report. The usual folks are in the bullpen, Hudson working at her computer with a mug of coffee and Brennan at his desk as well. The faces she’s come to know the best outside of Pratt. He plops himself down into his chair at his desk and Dahlia decides to grab another energy drink from the kitchen first.

She’s managed to rummage through the collection of tana cola bottle to find it, cracking it open with a yawn as she leaves the kitchen.

“…it wouldn’t have been so bad if Rook didn’t volunteer me for some bullshit.”

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic.”

“Jesus fuck,” Pratt jolts in his chair, nearly toppling it over, “that’s it, we’re getting you a god damn bell!”

“Didn’t know you were into that, Staci,” Brennan says with a snicker.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, please, no one’s buying it,” Hudson says, rolling her eyes.

“There’s nothing to buy, Rook is an annoying shit, who just grabbed me and volunteered me for bullshit.”

“You’re such a baby.”

Dahlia reaches out and flicks his ear, laughing when Pratt grabs her hand, fingers intertwining as he tries to push her back. She brings her other hand up, trying to reach out and flick him with her other hand. But he grabs it in the same way, the two pushing against each other, both grinning like children. She’s not even sure what the goal is and Pratt probably doesn’t either. But then his office chair wheels slide back from the force and she’s found a goal, pushing Pratt across the room. No particular reason for it other than the idea of watching him sail across the bullpen makes her giggle. But he won’t let go of her hands enough that she can push him without him dragging her too.

“The hell are you two doing?” Whitehorse’s voice booms out when he walks in to see the two deputies horsing around.

“Being idiots.”

“I don’t know, looks like flirting to me.”

Hudson’s insult and Brennan’s teasing makes red flush up the two bickering deputy’s cheeks. They’re technically holding hands and leaning into each other’s personal space, Dahlia realizes. Pratt suddenly drops her hands, jolting away as if her skin has burnt his, and pushing his chair away from her. Nearly toppling over a trashcan in his haste.

“Yeah why the hell you holding my hand, Rookie?”

“You grabbed my hand first, asshole!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You did.”

“You absolutely did.”

Hudson and Brennan agree with Dahlia, Pratt’s face going from pink to scarlet. Whitehorse rolls his eyes, no doubt questioning his hiring decisions. How any of them still have jobs is a mystery, except Hudson.

“How’d things go at the orchard?” The sheriff asks, adjusting his cowboy hat. He really does look like such a stereotype.

“We couldn’t find any evidence of who broke into the office, they grabbed the key, so I told Doug he should look into changing the locks and investing in some security cameras. They’re dead set on it being John or someone with the church though,” Pratt explains, rolling his chair back up to his desk.

“You know it was,” Brennan scoff, “damn church is destroying the whole county.”

“Now, now, you can’t go making accusations without evidence, I just hope Debbie and Doug can bounce back.”

Dahlia doesn’t miss the roll of Brennan’s eyes and the sneer on his lips, he doesn’t like Eden’s Gate or Whitehorse’s attitude towards them it seems. She’s rarely seen the officer without a smile, but lips curled and leg bouncing, he seems a moment away from flipping the desk in front of him.

“Well, if Rook’s plan works, they’ll do fine.”

“Your plan?” Whitehorse looks at her with a raised eyebrow; her fellow deputies and Brennan all look at her expectantly as well. She scratches at the back of her neck, skin prickling at the attention.

“Oh, uh…well, I figured they could do like an apple festival, be fun for the county and help raise some money for ‘em.”

“That the plan you were bitching about, Pratt?” Brennan raises an eyebrow at him.

“It’s a pain in the ass and the Seed family is gonna be pissed.”

“So, apple pie and pissing off the Seeds, I’m fuckin’ sold,” Brennan sticks his fist out to Dahlia and she bumps her knuckles to his, grinning, “anything I can help with, just say the word.”

“Seriously, see why can’t you be my partner?”

“Hey, rude.”

“’Cause we’d never get Pratt to stop whining about it.”

“What the hell, you’re suppose to be on my side, Beau.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“I’m willing to help out too if I can,” Hudson cuts in between the banter, eyes soft, “I still remember going apple picking there with my family, I don’t wanna see Doug and Debbie lose that place.”

“Yeah…that place has a lot of memories for everyone,” Pratt admits, hazel eyes deepening with nostalgia.

“Still remember the first year you came with us,” Hudson grins, “Mark tried to lift you up to grab an apple and you just started sobbing.”

“Your brother was trying to kill me and I stand by that,” Pratt smiles as he pretends to defend himself.

“When are Deb and Doug planning on having the festival?” Whitehorse asks Dahlia.

“Aiming for the next Friday, the 10th, they wanna see if they can do it the whole weekend too.”

“Lot of work to get done if that’s gonna happen.”

“I know, I’m planning on talking to Casey as soon as I can. See if he’ll help cook and if there’s any testy festy supplies or vendors he can help with.”

“Mary May has a live band that plays once a week, they might be willing to play,” Hudson offers.

“Think they’d work cheap or free? I’d hate to stiff anyone and I’ll pay whatever I have too out of my own pocket, but the last thing we want is the festival costing more than it makes,” Dahlia explains, leaning against the wall as she talks it out.

“If they’re not willing to work any or all of it, we could always talk to Wheaty too.”

“Wheaty?”

“Kid who lives up North,” Brennan points in the general North direction, “he’s been obsessed with starting a radio station for years, he’ll basically DJ anything for free just to show off his vinyl collection.”

“That could work too.”

“Addie would probably help with money for it, honestly, just throw some advertisements up for the Marina.”

“Hell, if me and Staci ask her, she’d probably do it anyway,” Brennan gives a wide toothy smile.

“Gross, but true.”

“Didn’t Grace use to do those shooting competitions at fairs and shit, letting people pay to try and outshoot her?”

“Yeah,” Hudson nods to Pratt’s suggestion, “she hates the attention, but if it’s for a good cause I’m sure she’d do it.”

“I don’t think the Fowler brothers would bring Cheeseburger, since they gotta watch what he eats, but they might be willing to bring down some animals for people to see.”

“Hell, if we could convince Rae Rae to bring Boomer; people will show up just get a picture of him.”

“Pie eating contest would draw people in too.”

“Lorna would probably make pasties for it if we asked.”

Dahlia can’t help but grin at all the ideas and suggestions; a fire seemingly ignited in everyone. There’s a warmth in her chest and a swelling sense of pride that she could get everyone on board. The orchard means a lot to the county, not just Debbie and Doug. And she may actually be able to save it.

“Woah woah, hold on now,” Whitehorse calls out and Dahlia stiffens, this technically isn’t police work, “is anyone writing all this down? Not gonna do anyone a lick of good if we forget something.”

He smiles, blue eyes soft as Hudson grabs a piece of paper, writing down the ideas that’ve been said so far. Whitehorse is giving his stamp of approval and that pride in her chest only swells bigger, thumping against her ribs and making her smile widen.

“Rook.”

“Yes, sheriff?”

“As long as you keep an ear to your radio, don’t see any reason you can’t work on some of this during work, alright?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Good, Debbie and Doug deserve the best and we’re damn well gonna give it to ‘em, that’s an order.”

The sheriff ruffles her hair before he leaves and her face hurts from smiling so much. She pulls up a chair to the desk, sitting with Hudson, Pratt, and Brennan as they keep working on ideas. All four stay past their shift hours; scribbling down all possible ideas, who they should reach out to and who should be the one to talk to them. Dahlia smiling the entire time as they talk late into the evening.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #this is love #joseph seed #faith seed #staci pratt

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hayjeon · 5 years

Text

Snow and Ice 02 [M] (ft. Jungkook)

→ friendswithbenefits!au with Snowboarder!JK and figure skater!reader during the Olympics. Warning for slight dirty talk.

→ 13.7k | part 1 | part 2 | fin.

a/n: sorry this took so long, but I’m so glad to be writing for you guys and seeing your messages in my inbox again. This marks the end of snow and ice! Thank you so much for being patient and supporting this fic, and although this was a beast to get through because of my writer’s block, I hope you enjoy! I won’t be posting a story talk about this unfortunately, but feel free to request any drabbles with this couple! I love them so much <3

“Come watch me,” he suggests, as you both get dressed for gym.

“Huh?” You frown at him, pulling on your sports bra and then smoothing over your spandex longsleeve over it. “Watch you do what?”

“Train, stupid.” He says, grinning as he brushes his teeth. He leans over, spitting in the sink bowl before continuing. “Watch me board, ‘n stuff.”

You turn in the mirror, tying up your hair. “Am I allowed to?”

He nods, now lathering up soap in his hands to clean his face. “Of course. The hyungs invite girls over all the time.”

You glare at him. “You too? You want me to be just another girl in the stands for you?”

He rinses off the soap. “Actually,” he says, patting his face dry and applying lotion. “you’re the first girl I’ve ever asked to come.”

You raise your brows, walking with him back to his room. “Seriously?” You perch on the bed, pulling on your leggings. “Dang, I would have assumed you had thousands of girls lined up to watch.”

He shrugs on a shirt. “I guess, but it doesn’t really matter. Here, how ‘bout this,” he suggests, handing you a yellow sweater, “Wear this, and i’ll be able to see you from the hill. That way I know to do my best.”

You roll your eyes as you pull it on, “You’re always supposed to do your best, Jungkook. It’s the Olympics.”

He grins, “Yeah, but I’d rather perform for you than anyone else, babe.”

Your heart does a little flutter at the comment and the nickname, and you turn to hide the grin that threatens to come onto your lips. “Shut up,” you giggle.

Watching Jungkook, different from what you’d expected, is actually incredibly fun. He’s absolutely amazing at boarding, and as you watch him come down the slopes, he kicks up into the air with amazing speed and agility as he performs outstanding flips and turns in mid-air. He speeds recklessly fast towards the incline and flips off, turning thrice before landing perfectly onto the snow. He executes the boxes and the pipes with no effort at all.

He’s really good, and you can see why he was chosen again, even amongst younger and older competitors. He was just absolutely the best.

He finishes his final run, and does a little turn at the end of the pipe and boards right up to you, the edge of his Burton scraping loudly against the snow as he brakes in front of you.

Grinning, he pulls off his goggles and leans down to unbuckle a foot from his board. He perches an arm against the fence you were behind.

“So,” he smirks, “what did you think?”

You blush, hoping he doesn’t notice and just credits your red cheeks to the cold. “You’re really good.”

That flakes up his ego and you watch as he laughs, reaching forward to curl a stray hair behind your ear and tuck your (well, technically his, because you stole it from him) beanie down better over your cold forehead.

“Well, I wouldn’t be an Olympian if I wasn’t good,” he jokes, winking at you. He reaches forward and zips your (his) jacket all the way up.

You roll your eyes, but your mouth is curling up in a smile.

“Also,” he comments, “I could see you all the way from the hill,” he snorts, “This jacket is literally the best one to spot someone a mile away. The yellow pops like crazy against the snow.”

You pat down the thing. It’s huge, almost reaching your knees and the sleeves way too long for your arms, but perfect enough so you didn’t have to wear gloves out in this weather. “It’s kind of big.”

“You look cute,” he smirks, dusting off his own black jacket, with its own yellow accents on the zippers and the pocket buttons. Classy. “We match, see?” He’s also wearing a khaki pair of snowboarding pants and black pair of boots to match his signature Burton board. He looks good, decked out in gear or not.

“Can I try?” You say shyly, “will you teach me?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh shit, seriously?”

You nod, fingering at the zipper at his chest, where the top of his grey hoodie peeks out. “Yeah.”

He smiles really big. “Yeah, I’m done training now. Wanna go right now? Since I have all my gear on.”

You nod and follow him to the small cabin near the slopes where there’s a locker room for the other athletes. Almost like a snowboarding store, there are brand new boards lined up against the wall, all from huge companies who wanted the athletes to notice and maybe do a promotion. Jungkook walks casually up to one and grabs it, holding it next to you and making sure that it comes to around your eye-level. “Here,” he hands you the board, the blue glinting in the bright lights of the display. You take it with wide eyes, almost tipping over under the surprising weight of the board.

He leads you to the boots where he grabs your size and sits you down on the bench to help you tie them.

“Wish you wore better socks,” he comments, as he kneels in front of you to pull long socks on your feet, “But my emergency pair will have to do.”

“Ew,” you crinkle your nose as he pulls them onto your legs, pulling the elastic as high as they can go up your calf. “Are you sure you washed these?”

He flicks you playfully, laughing, “Of course. I’m not Seokjin hyung.”

“Ew!” You exclaim, laughing loudly as he puts your foot in a heavy boot. He laces up the thick laces up the metal prongs, almost akin to the way you do yours when you lace up your skates. You wiggle your toes a bit, letting your calf press against the lip of the boot. “It’s a bit loose, don’t you think?”

He shakes his head. “There’s supposed to be a little wiggle room on your shins, because you need the room to move your ankles back and forth when you carve the slopes.”

You watch him finish.

“Okay,” he says, getting up and grabbing his own board. “This is how you strap them in.” He demonstrates with a foot, showing you how he cranks his straps first on the toe and then closer to your ankle with a skilled hand. “The crank will stop by itself when it doesn’t have enough space left to tighten.”

“Okay,” you respond, doing your own foot yourself. “Is this right?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, helping you up. “Alright, and you can put your foot here, and basically try standing.”

You get up from the bench and almost immediately topple over, and Jungkook catches you with a snort. You pout at him and use him to push yourself into equilibrium, spreading out your arms to get used to the feeling of having your feet strapped down so tightly against the ground.

“Good,” he encourages, “now try twisting your torso back and forth, good.”

“That’s it?” you raise your brows.

He snorts at you. “That’s it?”

You shrug, laughing at his incredulous expression when he scoffs at you. “I mean, it just looked a lot harder when you were doing it.”

He raises his brows at you. “We’ll see how you do on the actual snow.”

Just like he’d predicted, you were absolute shit.

“Fuck!” You exclaim as you fall down on your butt again, groaning and pouting as you let the soft snow cushion your back.

He laughs at you, slowing down to board towards you and help you up, dusting off your back and legs when you finally get up on your feet. “No, no, that was good. You’re getting the hang of it.”

You roll your eyes, “I heard you laugh at me, asshole.”

He grins, “I told you, it was hard. It’s like me telling you that ice skating looks easier when watching it and doing it. It’s totally different.”

You sigh, following his directions as you slowly acceleration down the bunny slope. Bend knees, arms out, lean back.

He watches you with a big smile, grinning as you furrow your brows in concentration and focus on making sure you don’t fall while scraping down the hill.

You start going too fast, and begin screaming as you instinctively lead forward, and Jungkook immediately boards up to you and scrapes to a stop in front of you, trying to catch you as you fall, but you’re going way too fast for him to stop you.

He ends up toppling backwards, with you on top of him, and he lands with a loud “Oof!” and you look up at him in shock. He’s just laying there with his eyes closed and unresponsive.

“Jungkook! Are you okay?!” You blurt, patting the chest that you’re cradled against.

“Ow,” he says, grinning down at you, snow all in his hair and sweater. “You’re a lot heavier than I thought.”

You spit out a loud “ugh!” and hit his chest as you frown. “You scared me!”

He laughs out loud, as you hit him continuously, his chest shuddering at the huge guffaws. “You thought I was dead or something?!” He snorts, grabbing your hand and holding it tight to stop you. You pout at him, “I thought you were hurt or you hit your head!” You shift a little, and Jungkook winces.

“Oh my god,” you pant, “Why what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He groans. “Yo-your knee, it’s digging into my crotch. Ow.” He winces and you scramble off of him to stand up, as he rolls over to get up.

“That was almost bad,” he says, kneeling up to stand. “This is precious private property.”

You snort, dusting off his hair and sweater, “Ugh shut up,” You roll your eyes, “You like making fun of me too much.”

He stops you, grabbing your hand as you pat off his chest, and pulling you up so your almost nose to nose. “No,” he grins, looking down at you through his lashes, “I like you.”

Your cheeks heat up furiously, and you blurt out whatever you can to distract him. “I wanna do you right now,” you say before you can stop yourself, and Jungkook’s eyes widen, successfully caught off guard as he glances around to make sure none of the other bystanders heard your announcement. Your bury the lower half of your face in the turtleneck of his snow jacket.

“Damn,” he mutters, smirking down at you, “watching me board got you that horny, that fast? You should come and watch me all the time.”

You roll your eyes, grinning behind a gloved hand. “Shut up. I’m starving. I found a nice sushi restaurant?”

He nods, unbuckling his helmet. “Down. Don’t you have training tomorrow?”

You nod. “Come watch me too?”

He grins, glancing around quickly before pecking you so quickly you’re even unsure if he did it or not. Your cheeks are red, from the biting cold but also something else.

“Of course,” he whispers, and the both of you board slowly down to the board center, eyes only on each other.

“Your skin got better,” Irene comments almost a week later, when you both are stretching in the gym.

“Seriously?” You grin, touching your cheek and turning to look at yourself in the mirror. “Thank god, I didn’t wanna have a gross pimple on the day of.”

She laughs. “Well, yeah. But you just look...I don’t know...happier? New vibrator or something?” She laughs as you yelp and punch her arm. “Irene!”

“What!” She laughs, giggling, “You’ve been going out a lot, I just assumed you’d been shopping around in secret or something.”

You just smile, tamping down the blush on your cheeks. You had been going out a lot, and Irene had noticed too for the past few days, since it was really really hard to ignore Jungkook’s pleas for you to just stay in his bed at night.

Also, it was really really cold outside, and Jungkook’s room had a heater that adjusted to make the temperature...really really warm. And perfectly toasty. But not too hot, because you hated sweaty cuddling.

It wasn’t because you...wanted to stay with him...or whatever. Yeah. Just the warmth. It was almost minus 20 outside, you’d be crazy to try to sneak in back home at 4 am in the morning. Also his room had...tons of great great yummy food that you couldn’t resist.

You finish the workout without a struggle, and you and Irene make your ways into the rink. Today, you would have to wait a little since the hockey team was finishing up, but it was good time to just take a break. Plus, the cute team captain, Jimin, had texted you a couple days ago, inviting you to come watch him if your coach let you.

You settle on the stands, nodding when Irene leaves because she left her skate guards in the dorms, and focusing back onto the ice. Jimin glides easily, ramming his shoulder into his teammate’s to steal the puck. Although it was a practice session amongst their own, Jimin was still ruthless, all whilst still gliding so easily over the ice. There was no wonder why he was such a great athlete and captain.

When he makes a score, you clap a tiny bit, but sounds of squealing catch your attention down the stands. A few junior olympians, clearly first-timers and gymnasts, if you could judge by their attire, squeal and cheer for the cheeky captain whenever he makes a score. And you notice, that the captain had definitely invited them to come watch, because everytime he hears them scream, he tips his head over to them and gives them a smirk and a wink that makes them squeal a little more.

“God,” you mutter to yourself, “They’re like a herd of piglets. Jesus,” You roll your eyes, feeling a little annoyed at the scene.

“Whatcha muttering about to yourself there, sweetcheeks?” A voice sounds to your left, and you see Jungkook, holding two cups.

You panic, glancing around him to see if anyone was watching, like your teammates or your coach, but Jungkook just assures you, “Chill, there’s no one here. And if they do see me, they’ll assume I’m just here to watch Jimin.” You take the cup he offers you, and sip it, moaning at the warm hot chocolate that flows down your throat.

“Oh god,” you groan, “He invited you too?”

Jungkook laughs, “Was the text you got last night while I was eating you out from Jimin?”

You punch him, glancing around again. “Again, chill. No one knows.”

You roll your eyes, sipping the drink and leaning down to watch the game. “Yeah,” you scoff, glaring at the little gymnasts cheer again for the captain. “But seems like he just copied and pasted it to literally every single girl here.”

Jungkook leans back, sipping his chocolate. “Well, Jimin’s sort of a player, sweetheart.”

You widen your eyes at him. “Seriously? But he doesn’t...act...wait...” You trail off, trying to think of what to say, but Jungkook catches you with a smirk.

“He doesn’t...what? Doesn’t look like one? Doesn’t act like one?” He laughs at you when you glare at him. “Sorry honey, but he does all of it. You just have a tendency to fall for the bad ones.”

You gesture to him, the way he’s manspreading all over the place and cockily perched on the stands like he owns it. He scoffs at you. “Clearly.” You mutter, finishing off your drink.

He just laughs, reaching over and pinching your butt. “I’m so gonna edge you tonight because of that,” he says lowly, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. You fidget, trying to pretend like you’re watching the game but to be honest you have no idea what the hell is going on. Your thighs are uncomfortably tense and your clit throbs against the material of your panties.

He leans in, grating against your ear. “You know I’m not like that. I’m a slave to you, and that delicious pussy.” He says, brushing your hair back nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t whispering the dirtiest things to you in the middle of an olympic stadium with other people there.

You fidget, and his eyes drop to the action. “Getting worked up, huh?” He grins, and you feel the way his body warmth lingers in the space. “Want me to do everything I say? Well let me tell ya,” he says lowly, still sipping on his hot chocolate, nonchalantly.

If anyone looked back and saw you both up in the stands, talking and watching the show, they’d assume you were both discussing the games or the positions or the way the puck was in Jimin’s hands or some hockey shit like that.

But this...

His voice is low enough to reach you from his place next to you, far enough to be professional, but close enough to be friendly. “I’m gonna throw you on the bed and rip all that fucking body tight spandex off,” he mutters, glaring at the leggings you love. “You always tease me, with how fucking tight that shit is on your body, and how I can literally see everything if I look at you in the right angle.”

You fidget, fingers tightening on the cup.

“I bet right now you’re this close to getting wet all over your leggings huh?” He whispers darkly, “Through your panties. Shit,” He grates, and you clench at the way he spits out the word. “I’ll fucking rip that shit off you and tie your hands to the bed and eat you out until you forget hockey captain’s fucking name. I’ll fucking edge you so much that you’ll be begging for my cock, begging and sobbing for me just to push it in.”

He takes another sip nonchalantly, seeming the every so lazy and serene image of the olympic professional snowboarder. Jeon Jungkook.

But you...you’re a little bit on the opposite end, head curling in to hide the redness of your cheeks and torso bending over your crossed knees to cover the pants that you let out. Your clit throbs heavily against the slit of your panties that is pressed right against your wetness, and your fingers twitch to just reach down and rub one out.

But the stadium is too well-lit, and there are people sitting on the opposite side of the stadium who you can predict will be able to tell what’s going on if you did anything physically suspicious. So you’re stuck, stuck here listening to Jungkook whisper his plans for tonight into your ear, trying to smile to make it seem like you’re just discussing sweet, innocent things. Not the way his big cock was gonna slide through your wetness. Nope.

“And I’m gonna flip you over and then--”

“Y/N!”

Jungkook is cut off and the both of you dart your heads up in the direction of the sound of your name. Jimin, from a few stands down, waves up at you, smiling and gesturing for you to come down, since his skates wouldn’t let him climb up easily. You stand, setting your cup down and Jungkook follows you down and you three meet at the base of the stand steps. You can distinctly feel the burn of the gymnasts gazes on the side of your face, searing into your skin with glares so fierce that even the ignorant Jimin glances nervously in their direction.

“So,” he says, shaking out his hair and balancing all his equipment on the other shoulder. “How was the game?”

How was the game, really? You had no fucking clue because Jungkook spent most of it explaining how he would do you instead of trying to explain what the hell was going on. You half-ass it.

“Oh, yeah! That was pret-ty cool,” you cluck, smiling awkwardly. But Jimin seems to want you to go on, and so you hesitate before adding, “Jungkook was explaining how things work, you know...with...the puck and your sticks and all.” You smile guiltily, but Jimin buys it, sending you a charming grin.

“Great,” he smiles, running a hand through his hair. “You’re next right? I think I heard the figure skaters have the rink after us.” He glances behind you, giving Jungkook a nod. “’Sup man, nice to see you in these parts.”

Jungkook grins, arms crossed as he leans against the railing. “I’m here to see Y/N’s performance.”

Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh really? Didn’t know you two were close.”

You’re facing Jimin but can practically hear the fuckboy smirk in Jungkook’s tone. “Oh, yeah. We’re really close.” You turn to glare at him before whipping back and smiling sweetly at Jimin. “Yeah, I’m after. I think my coach is calling us to prep. Gotta go!”

You run off, waving at them, and see that Jimin turns to hit the showers and Jungkook sits back in the seats you two were sharing earlier. Jimin was probably gonna come back, but Jungkook was clearly intent on spending his time here.

Jogging over, you hear your coach reminding the others about some key points: “don’t be nervous, do it like you practiced, and don’t fucking get hurt.” You all nod and answer back, “Yes coach!” and she nods at you, seeming content. With a reassuring shoulder pat, she says, “Y/N you’re up. Go get your skates laced up while they’re clearing the ice.”

Before you turn to get your stuff, she hesitates frowning at your figure. “Did...did you gain some weight?” She says, gesturing to your thighs. You glance down, not really noticing anything different. “Uh...no,” you frown, pursing your lips.

She tsks disapprovingly. “Make sure you lose a couple more before the big day. Those extra pounds will really slow down your spins.”

You nod and jog over to grab your skates, threading the heavy duty laces through the metal prongs easily like it was muscle memory. You do a few stretches as you watch the zamboni glide over the ice, breathing in and breathing out to make sure you’re relaxed. Once the machine is safely tucked away, you enter on the ice, skating around the entirety of the rink and then situating yourself in the center in your starting pose, bent gracefully like a swan folded into its wings. Apparently, according to your coach.

As soon as the first tinkering notes of the piano begin, you unfurl, arms swinging out with precision and grace, and you immediately enter into the triple lutz and triple toe loop combination, finishing the move with a perfect spin, and then entering into the second triple toe with incredible speed.

You’re feeling good, and in the comfort of feeling good within the routine, you begin acting a little, putting on a graceful smile and a teasing glint in your eye that your coach instructed you to act upon. Your legs match the swells of the music, and everything seems to fade away, little by little, until the grande finale, where you’ve planned to finish the fourth triple toe with a little spin.

Turn, lift, and jump--Oh shit.

The foot you’re supposed to land on bends a little too far outwards, and you stumble, landing on the hard ice with a cry as your tailbone hits the cold surface without any limbs to obstruct your fall. Your ankle throbs as you hit the floor, and immediately, the music shuts off as Irene and Hoseok clamber over to you, your coach frowning from the music control pit and turning to come downstairs.

“Oh shit,” Irene frets, “you fell pretty hard, are you okay?”

Hoseok hovers behind her nodding. “Yeah, right on your tailbone.”

“Y/N!” All three of you look up to see Jungkook jogging up to you, slipping a little on the ice and giving up completely as he kneels next to you. “Are you okay?”

You wince when you try to stand, leaning on Jungkook support. Your ankle gives out under you, and you cry out when your sore butt hits the ice again. “Fuck,” Jungkook mutters, “We gotta get you to the medic.” Looping your arm around his shoulders and another under your knees, he easily lifts you up in his arms and Irene and Hoseok just worriedly watch Jungkook make his way over to the spongey floor and then start jogging towards the doors.

Coach catches up with you both, examining your ankle. “Y/N,” she frowns when you wince at the pressure she puts on your bone. “How does it feel?”

You sob, apologetic tears running down your cheeks. “I-I’m sorry,” you blubber, wiping at your cheeks, “I-I-I promise I won’t get hurt, just--”

“Shut up, Y/N,” Jungkook hisses, “Why are you even sorry? It wasn’t your fault.” He sends coach a withering glare as he outruns her, leaving her behind. On the way out the gym, Jimin catches the both of you, emerging from the locker rooms with a towel draped over his shoulders. His expression immediately falls at the sight of you sobbing in Jungkook’s arms.

“What happened?!” He calls after you, but no one answers him.

“Good news,” the medic explains, taking a look at your chart. “It’s not a sprain or a break. It’s just overused, and will be a little sore for the next few days. The tailbone will definitely bruise, but that’s basically the worst of it.”

He flips through the other parts of your info, frowning. “Y/N...” he mutters, glancing up at you. “Part of the figure skating team?”

You nod, glancing at Jungkook, who’s worriedly sitting by your side. “Yes,” you answer, “Is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “That explains your height to weight ratio. Just want to let you know that you don’t need to overexert yourself. You’re close to being underweight and a wrong move can lead to permanent damage. If you’re gonna be following a diet, you need to be strict on getting all your nutrients too.”

He frowns to himself, seeming to hesitate before he says the second part. “However, though, your coach called and asked me about your weight. You...did gain a few pounds since your first weigh-in at the beginning of the training. What is this...6 pounds? Your coach reminded me to tell you to makes sure it’s all muscle because the extra weight can affect your spins.”

He shrugs, rolling his eyes. “I hate telling girls this but we as medics operate within these Olympics for a reason. So, I’m prescribing you a few more vitamins and nutrients to help maintain your status quo, and I’m also banning you from any practice for the next three days. No skating, running, or even walking too much, if you want to step on that ice next week with a good performance. So you--” he points to Jungkook who straightens up, “Go get Y/N a wheelchair when you grab the prescriptions and make sure she gets absolutely no strain on that ankle. You hear me?”

“Thank you,” you tell him, and the old man nods as he walks away mumbling about Too skinny or something like that. Jungkook returns fairly quickly and helps guide you into the chair, pushing you towards the elevators.

You can hear the frown in his voice. “D-did he...are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, hands gripping the prescription.

“I heard what the medic said,” he says, rolling you into the elevator and pressing the button for the pharmacy. “About your weight.”

You shrug, thumbing at a stray thread on your arm. “It’s fine, it’s not a big deal until it starts affecting my jumps. Coach is just worried.”

He hums in response, wheeling you out to the window of the pharmacy and retreiving your vitamins. When he jogs back to you, he hands you the paper bag and faces you with a small smile. “Hey,” he says softly, kneeling down a bit to your eye level. “Where do you wanna go now?”

You blink up at him, feeling a bit empty and not sure of what else to do. “Can we go someplace quiet?” You whisper, biting your lip. You feel the tears coming soon and you don’t want anyone else to be able to see that part of you. Also you just want a big big hug.

He nods, cupping your cheek and whispering “okay,” as he stands and begins to wheel you towards his dorms. When the cold air of the winter hits the both of you, he removes his jacket and places it on your legging-clad legs.

Thankfully, this time around, all the athletes aren’t home because they’re either training or practicing. So getting up to Jungkook’s room isn’t as difficult as you’d thought, and thankfully he’s wheeling you into his room without running into anyone or any other problems. Immediately, he opens his closet and grabs you another sweater to place on top of your spandex longsleeve, and then cranks up the thermostat as much as he can.

Opening the covers of his bed, he then turns to you, and lifts you easily out of the wheelchair, and gently sets you in the middle of his bed, tucking the sheets around you.

He turns to leave, and you grip his sleeve.

“Where are you going?”

He smiles back at you. “Don’t you want something to eat? I was gonna make you some tea or grab you something from the cafeteria.”

You shake your head, tugging at his shirt. He obliges, slowly sinking into the mattress next to you, and you open the covers for him to come under. He wraps his arms around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder, your own arms wrapping around his small waist underneath the covers. His warmth is addicting, and you slip your cold hands under his shirt to press against the naked skin of his chest. But Jungkook doesn’t complain and just lets you, his lips pressed against your hair and legs tangled in within yours.

He feels the crying before he sees them, the shuddering motion of your shoulders and the wetness against his own arm alerting him that you were crying. From what he remembered, you never cried when you were sad. You only cried when you were close to giving up, so frustrated and helpless.

So he does what he can do, which is just to wrap you up even tighter within his arms, and just presses his lips against your forehead.

You’re sniffling, muffling your cries to make it seem like you’re not as sad as you really are, but Jungkook can tell, by the way your usually confident shoulders are hunched into his torso, and the way you hide your face into his chest instead of happily smiling up at him.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers, stroking your hair back as you wipe your tears away with a droopy sleeve.

You sniffle, rubbing your eyes until they’re dry enough for you to look at him properly. He’s inches away from your face and from here, even through your bleary vision, you can see the concern mottled in his expression and the genuine concern for your well-being. It felt warm. Nice.

You hadn’t felt that way in a while.

“Can you...can you just h-hold me please?” You whimper, and Jungkook nods sweetly, pulling you even closer and winding his arms around your back and securing you in place against his warm body. You can feel the muscle and the lean effort of all his training underneath his shirt, but right now, pressed against him, all you can really focus on is the steady heartbeat that thunders against your cheek, calming you down.

Training for the Olympics, although difficult to admit, was extremely stressful. It was always so physically demanding, but also mentally exhausting. The entire country was relying on you to beat the rival and win a gold this time, and it could make or break your career for the rest of your life. You had so many people on your shoulders. There was mom, who used to stay up nights sewing your costumes because you guys couldn’t afford the ridiculously expensive skating dresses, not until you started winning competition money. Or your coach, who was hard on you not just because you paid her to do it, but also because she cared to make sure you were feeling your best. Or Irene, and Hoseok, your amazing teammates who supported you through this, not distancing themselves from you when you started doing more rigorous training but instead sticking right by your side and encouraging you through it.

And then there was Jungkook.

He...he was so simple.

Physically, even, you felt no pressure. He wanted you, you wanted him. It was easy.

But emotionally, he was there for you. And he demanded nothing in return, and neither did you feel as pressured as you did with others to do so. Instead, that reciprocation came so naturally, whether it meant helping him plan out his finances for when he goes back home, or speaking to his mother who wanted to watch her son snowboard but couldn’t understand the directions to the hotel she was supposed to stay in, so you took the call while Jungkook was training and brought her in. Or even just giving him massages after his workouts to soothe the kink he always ended up getting near his ribs.

You felt at home with him.

Your breathe isn’t shuddering anymore and you’re just resting your eyes in his embrace when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Jungkook flinches at the sudden movement and you detach from him with a “sorry” and sit up to accept the call.

“Hello?”

“Y/N!” It’s your coach’s voice. Your eyes fly open as you yank the device away from your cheek just to make sure that it was real. It was. Her name was scrolling across your screen as she continues talking, “Where the hell are you? I was told that you would be in bed rest for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, coach,” you say, staring at Jungkook with panic, “I-I’m on my way back.”

“With who? Jeon Jungkook, that snowboard player?”

“Y-yeah,” you say, motioning for Jungkook to get the wheelchair. “He helped me back, we’re walking right now.”

She groans, “I don’t care where you are, but you better check the news right now. Call me back when you’re ready to focus.” She hangs up quickly, and you let your phone fall from your face with shock.

“Hey,” Jungkook mutters, cradling you close as he helps you into the chair. “What was that?”

“It was coach,” you whisper back, trembling fingers tapping impatiently at your screen to open your internet and type in the first news engine you can find. You pan over to the sports section and immediately see the blaring headlines with your name and face on it.

GOSSIP: OLYMPIC FIGURE SKATER ON DATE WITH OLYMPIC SNOWBOARDER JEON JUNGKOOK

“I saw them cuddling together at the ddukkbokki stand near my house the other night,” says spectator A. “They looked pretty close.”

Dating speculations about olympic competitors Y/N and Jeon Jungkook have been circulating after witnesses saw the two cozying it up at late night hours at a small diner near the olympic village. A reporter from Dispatch News has also released pictures and evidence of their interactions, including their public date last week, and more individual sightings with Y/N wearing Jungkook’s olympic hoodie and Jungkook hanging around the ice rink a lot more often.

Both accusations have been bringing lots of criticism to both athletes, for the Olympics are but a week away from today. Many believe that the athletes should have been using the time at the Olympic village training and preparing for their competitions, and have been critiquing Y/N and Jungkook’s choices to be letting go of their focus and instead focusing on each other.

Both sides have yet to respond to the rumors.

Comments:

[+452, -89] Isn’t Y/N the one who lost to Jennie last year? Didn’t she promise that she would “work hard” to win the gold?

[+232, -102] i don’t blame her, jeon jungkook is so hot

[+34, -98] I heard that the Olympic Village is just an orgy of all the athletes. It would be naive for us to think our athletes were all innocent and didn’t participate

[+89, -22] honestly they’re all just enjoying their lives and their twenties why are we criticizing them so much?

- yydnr replied: [+231, -43] well do you get paid millions of won a year to date around?

[+94, -14] ugh we dont even know for sure chill everyone

Your fingers tremble as you let the device fall from your hands. Jungkook is on the phone with his coach too, and you stare up at him with teary eyes as the look of realization dawns on his face and he briskly walks over to you and yanks the phone out of your hands to see the screen. He scrolls for a bit and he breathes out heavily through his nose, rubbing his eyes as he hands the phone back to you and tilts his head back.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “coach, coach, I’ll handle it, okay, no. Yeah, she’s here. Yeah. Okay,” he says, sighing and plopping down next to you on the bed. “Okay, I’ll call you back.”

He hangs up the phone, letting it drop, but you can still see the screen lighting up with notifications and missed calls and texts, but he must have set it on do not disturb. He sees the way you tear up and he tries to lean in to hug you, but you lean away and push him away, tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N?”

He sounds so hurt.

But you turn and let your legs swing over the other side of the bed. You grab your phone, dialing Irene’s number.

“Y/N?” She sounds worried, “Where are you, are you okay?”

“Jungkook’s dorm...can you come get me please,” you whisper, and she hears the tears in your voice and immediately agrees to come get you.

“I-” you stutter, wiping away your tears and breathing in a deep shuddering breath, “I can’t d-do this, Jungkook,” you say, turning over your shoulder to look at him. He looks terrified, but he doesn’t move and continues to listen to you.

“There’s just too much at stake here,” you sniffle, shaking your head slowly. He mirrors you, shaking his head, “Y/N, no no no, what--”

“We can’t!” You exclaim, your voice breaking as you throw your hands up and sobs break out again. “We seriously can’t do this anymore, didn’t you see those comments on that article?”

“Y/N,” Jungkook argues, “Those comments don’t matter! It all doesn’t matter!”

“No but it does Jungkook! Those comments are right. Your life may not depend on this but mine does okay?”

“What are you even talking about?” he frowns, getting increasingly frustrated.

You turn to sit facing him and explain. “Look, Jungkook, you have a lot of brand deals and companies supporting you. If they figure out that you’re dating or anything of the sorts, especially during the Olympics, it’ll tarnish your image and all those brands will pull out. Then where will you get your income for the rest of the year that’s not the winter? Are you gonna go back to working at restaurants again? Is that what you want?” You urge, and Jungkook hardens at the mention of the last part.

You remember the way Jungkook finally decided to become a professional snowboarder. The thing with boarding was that other than the winter seasons, where he could probably compete, film promotionals, and model for winter clothing, there was no source of income unless brands were partnering with him to promote their athletic lines during off seasons. But here, image was everything, so if the public got even the slightest bit turned against Jungkook, then all those brands would pull out and he would have to resort to waiting tables, just like he’d done in high school, when his parents wouldn’t support his dreams and he had to support himself to attend the same camps that you and the other athletes did.

He’d worked so hard, and the times where he had to humble himself to resort to waiting tables whilst training incredibly hard for the Olympics, was such a hard time in his life, a time that you only knew about because you were hooking up with him during the athlete boot camp.

“And,” you continue, tears welling up again, “Jungkook, you know where I come from. I...I don’t have that leisure, to just give it all up. I don’t have brand deals like Jennie does, and I barely get commercials and competition prizes that at least cover the minimum expenses for my training, my skates, and my coach. I...I can’t do that to my mom. Even if this is the thing that I wanted the most,” you watch the way he perks up with a sinking heart, “Even if, I can’t do that to her. Not when you and I both know how hard she worked by herself to help me get to where I am now. I can’t.”

The moment you finish, two rapid knocks sound on the door and you and Jungkook look up warily to the sight of Seokjin and Irene standing there with apologetic expressions.

“You ready?” Irene whispers, and you nod, and she comes helps you get on the wheelchair. Jungkook just watches you and his hands reach out a bit when you stumble while getting up from the bed, but he lets you go.

You take one last look as Irene wheels you out of the room with Seokjin holding the door. Jungkook is sitting on his bed, hands clasped around his buzzing phone, watching you leave with red-rimmed eyes.

And you bury your face in your hands as you let the sobs rack your shoulders.

“One, two, three, four, turn, spin, and up!”

Your coach claps the right beats as you match her voice with your steps and perform the routine in your shoes.

It’s been a week since the ordeal happened, and like any other gossip mill, the scandal had faded out and gotten lost within another celebrity dating rumor that thankfully seemed to bury yours. For now.

In that week, you’d taken two days to heal completely, and then went back on the ice and trained literally 24/7. You couldn’t sleep properly either, so most of that time you spent either on the ice or stretching, or doing cardio. Your diet was stricter than ever, and according to this morning’s weight check, you were now 11.2 pounds lighter, meaning you’d shed the weight that you’d somehow gained so quickly with Jungkook and had lost extra weight on top of that.

Your turns were now tip-top shape, and your coach had stopped giving you those disapproving looks anymore and was now fully invested into making sure your routine would 100% perfect by the time it was your tournament.

Today was Tuesday, so you still had two days left until yours. Your performance was scheduled as second to last of the night, on Thursday, and so you had two full days to train and practice more before the final day.

You’re doing the stair master in the gym when Irene comes up to you and takes the machine aside yours.

“How are you feeling?” She murmurs, probably talking about the way you’d missed out on too much sleep the past few days.

“Fine,” you mutter, staring down at the screen of the machine. You’d been climbing for almost an hour and it was only at 300 calories. Literally the amount you’d drank in your protein shake for breakfast. You wipe some sweat off your brow.

“Are you sure?” she says, and reaches over to hold your hand.

“Yeah,” you say, turning to her with a sad smile. “Thanks. I’ll be okay even if i’m not okay.”

She bites her lip and furrows her brow. You told her the night she took you home, and she’d let you sleep in her bed as you cried yourself to sleep. She’d also taken the liberty to monitor the state of the article in your place, and make sure to delete all social media apps off your phone so you could focus.

It was why she was your best friend.

But no matter how much she helped you, how nice your coach was being and the encouragements your mom showered over you through your facetime sessions, it was impossible to fill that void that kept eating at your chest.

Going to sleep at night was so hard when the rooms were still cold with the heater turned on high, you missed the way Jungkook would curl himself against you, bundling you against his body and his warmth. Wearing your clothes just felt wrong because you missed the way his old clothes would just swallow you whole and make you feel safe and small. You even missed how you always had someone to call or text when you were bored or lonely or needed someone to talk to without having them make you feel like being an athlete was your entire life. No matter how many protein shakes you drank and calories you burned, the satisfactory feeling of just sharing a warm meal and drink with Jungkook was all you wanted to do right now to relieve the stress.

Irene’s hesitant voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “I’m asking because,” she begins, biting her lip and thinking hard.

“Because what?” You raise your brows, staring at her expectantly. Irene was usually a blunt person, and didn’t usually hesitate this much. “What’s wrong?”

“...because today’s his turn. For the games.” she whispers, wincing as she watches your expression go through a transition from realization, surprise, guilt, devastation, and nonchalance.

“Oh,” you turn back to your screen, not really feeling anything good when the 399 ticks to the 400 calorie mark. “Well, good luck to him.”

Irene stops her machine, smiling sadly at you. “It’s tonight at 6 if you want to watch with Hoseok and me. We’re watching for Seokjin, and...well you should be there too.”

You smile back at her, thanking her for caring, and turn back and raise the speed of the stairmaster. You couldn’t show up. There were going to be a thousand reporters and there was no way that your presence at his tournament would ever bode well, for you, for the tabloids, your mom, your coach, your career, anything and everything.

But as you step off the stairmaster with wobbly legs and a sweaty brow, your eyes linger on the televisions that hang over the running machines, automatically set to the games channel, where you can already see a couple other snowboarders having their interviews.

Taking a swig of your water, you sit yourself on the other side of the gym on one of the hip abduction machines, staring at the tv’s while pretending to do some 40 pound leg openers. You’re squinting a bit through the pain as you stare at the screen, hoping to catch the schedule of when Jungkook’s team was ready, but then Irene shows up again.

“What the heck, why are you suddenly doing hip abductions Y/N?” She frowns, curling her lip at the heavy lifting machine. “We don’t do that.”

You don’t answer her, and she follows your line of sight to the televisions. “Oh,” she mutters, smiling down at you sadly. “Ugh, Y/n,” she grabs your arm to catch your attention. You stare up at her, removing your earphones. “Irene! What’s up?”

She points blatantly at the tv. “I know you’re just doing these weights because you wanna watch the games without being obvious. C’mon, how long have I known you now? 10, 11 years? You think I won’t know that you want to go watch? Just go.”

“I can’t,” you hiss, pushing her back and leading her into somewhere less crowded. “You saw those comments on the tabloid. If anyone sees me or anyone who looks like me near the slopes, they’ll attack me, and even worse, Jungkook.”

“Aw,” she pats your arm, “You’re worried about him.”

You frown, swatting her hand away. “No, I’m not. I’m only worried about it because if I can’t appeal to the public then no matter what I win, those deals and cf’s that are supposed to make me money won’t come in.”

She nudges you with a knowing smile. “Whatever you say, y/n. Cause I definitely think you’re worried and I am 100% sure that you are totally, and completely in love with him.”

You stare at her in shock. “Love?”

“Yes,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re the ice princess and there has yet to be anyone to melt your cold cold heart, but you need to let go and just let him love you, okay? And you need to acknowledge that you have feelings for this guy. It’s been way too long since I’ve ever seen you feel like this towards anyone. So just go for it.”

“But I can’t!” you throw your hands in the air, collapsing into an empty stationary bike. “Irene, you know that if I go there, they’ll rip us apart like hyenas.”

She thinks a bit, furrowing her pretty face.

“Do you have anything to wear that’ll cover you up, but Jungkook will recognize?”

“This better work,” you mutter, shoving your way through the crowd, and burrowing your face into the neck of the yellow ski jacket that Jungkook gave you that one time he invited you to watch him train. It engulfed your figure whole, and so you wore a turtleneck and a hoodie underneath, tucking the fabric up over your chin to cover your features and wearing the bulkiest pair of pants to cover your legs. You’d gone back to the shop and borrowed the same pair of snow boots to wear as you trekked out to where Jungkook would be competing.

Thankfully, because of the weather, others were dressed similarly, decked from head to toe in protective winter gear, even with masks over the lower half of their faces. But the only thing that made you stand out was the obnoxiously bright color of your jacket. Hopefully, though, the blatant obviousness would be exactly the reason why people would avoid you, and Jungkook, would see you today.

You hustle within the crowd, trying to jostle your way into a better view of the slopes. Jungkook is currently at the top of the slope, adjusting his goggles and high fiving his teammates as he gets ready for the run of the day. The announcer’s voices filter through your earphones, and you listen as they introduce the athlete statistics.

“Alright, Minhyuk-ssi, so we have athlete Jeon Jungkook with us here today, the second to last competitor of the night. Imagine what it’s like, to be standing there on the top of the slope for the second time in your life, aiming to get your second gold!”

“Yes, Seungkwan-ssi, it looks really promising today,” Minhyuk nods on the screen of your iphone. “Jeon Jungkook, 22, representing the Republic of Korea and competing for the second time! The last winter Olympics, he stole the gold medal title as the youngest athlete to ever win the Men’s gold, and today he’s back to establish yet another milestone as the youngest ever athlete to win two back to back gold medals!”

Seungkwan leans forward, and the screen pans to the sight that you’re seeing with your bare eyes, Jungkook on the top of the slope. “Alright, he’s currently getting himself ready. Lot of pressure, lot of anxiety probably. And there he goes.”

You can see from down the slope the familiar image of Jungkook’s figure speeding recklessly down the steep slope with his left foot placed directly behind his right, not braking at all as he speeds incredibly fast towards the first two peaks.

Minhyuk comments quickly, “Okay, there he goes, up and over the hitching post, and easily over to the tail slide of the box there.”

Jungkook easily slides over the boxes, the bottom of his board scraping loudly and slamming with an echoing smack when he lands on the leveled ice. The people around you cheer politely, and you narrow your eyes at the sight and focus on the commentary of the announcers.

“And he nails the triple rotation 720, easily,” Seungkwan comments, as Jungkook sails through the air.

Minhyuk finishes off the rest of his commentary as Jungkook goes through some routine simple flips and tricks. “Now, Seungkwan-ssi, this last one, the triple cork 1440 with three head dips, it’s a difficult one. Jungkook tends to over-rotate his upper body when he’s nervous, but let’s hope he executes this one well. There he goes!”

With the escalation of the announcer’s voice, the entire crowd silences in anticipation as Jungkook speeds incredibly fast towards the last huge hill, and as soon as his board leaves the ramp, he rotates his body, and flips once, twice, three times, and four! His board lands with a thwack against the snow and he raises his arms in a cheer that’s drowned out by the way the crowd explodes in cheers and shouts of his name.

You shove the phone into your pocket, now trying your hardest to see what’s going on in the midst of all the fanfare and chants, but everyone begins crowding and shoving and jumping all at the same time that you’re drowned out and you can’t see a thing. But one thing that you can see is the score board located at the top of the hill, and everyone silences again as the announcers begin collecting points.

“For athlete Jeon Jungkook,” the voice booms, “88.02!”

The crowd erupts in cheers and immediately the screens change to the image of Jungkook hugging his coach and his teammates, smiling triumphantly and throwing his beanie and goggles off to raise a high fist in the air with a brilliant cheer. You weasle your way in between bodies, trying your hardest to fit your body through the crevices made between people hugging each other and cheering for Jungkook, eventually making your way to the edge of the crowd, against the fences.

You don’t say much, because you’re sure that if you do, you’ll just call more attention to yourself. But you wait, patiently, shoulders bustling against the pressure of the people behind you trying to get a look, and bracing your gloves fingers against the cold metal of the fence, rooting your spot in the front.

Slowly, Jungkook turns away from his friends and teammates, politely twisting around and surveying and waving to the crowd of supporters who have come to cheer for him. His crinkled eyes, pushed up by his huge smile, sweeps over the crowd, but they settle in your direction as his smile wavers and his arms raised high over his head pause a little in their waving. His eyes lock.

You wave back.

Decked in the whole getup, sunglasses that cover your forehead to your nose, a mask pulled over your nose and your lips, a turtleneck that covers your chin down, and the yellow hood pulled tight over your hair, there’s no way that anyone here except Jungkook would know.

You hope he sees.

But he resumes his waving, only faltering a milisecond before he just keeps going as if he’d never seen you at all. You slump, hand falling down as you give up resisting the excitedness of the crowd. They push you back furhter, and you let it take you to the outskirts, almost as if riding a current, until someone’s elbow sweeps over your head and knocks off your hood and your sunglasses.

The said perpetrator turns in his heels, an old man who was probably cheering for Jungkook, about to apologize, when he sees your face as you stand up straight from picking up the sunglasses. His eyes furrow and then round as the recognition crosses his face. “A-aren’t you--??!”

Before he knows it, you sprint back towards the directions of your dorms, and you don’t look back.

“Oh my god, how was it?!” Irene screeches when you stumble back into the dorm, shaking off the snow from your jacket and leaving on a rack to dry. She stands and helps you take off the chunky boots. “Did anyone see you?”

You rub your eyes. “Just one guy. But I ran away before he could even finish his sentence.”

She pats your back comfortingly. “He did well. For those of us who were watching the live stream, there was no sight of you, so thank goodness the cameras were just focused on Jungkook. You’ll be okay.” She guides you over the couch of your shared room, where Hoseok and a couple other teammates are watching in support of their childhood friend. “He’s doing his press conference,” she explains, “The athlete after him lost by a couple points. He got the gold medal.”

Your heart warms and blooms in five thousand different directions as the burden and anxiety on your shoulders falls, and you settle into the cozy cushions of the couch with a cup of hot tea that Hoseok hands you. Jungkook’s face is plastered on the huge HD tv, smiling as the reporters around him crowd to get a good shot of the new record-setting olympian. After his pictures, Jungkook is lead to a panel table where reporters begin asking him questions.

“First of all, Jungkook, we all want to congratulate you on your win.” The room erupts with claps and cheers. The reporter goes on. “How do you feel being the first and youngest olympian to win a back-to-back gold medal for the men’s snowboarding division?”

Jungkook’s face fills the screen, his dimples deep as his grins widely. “It’s so awesome, I’m so honored to be here right now and I’m so thankful for all my support and teammates for helping me to get to this place tonight.” He lifts the heavy metal around his neck and flashes it for all the cameras to see, smiling and grinning as the cameras begin flicking and flashing wildly.

“How hard was the training?” Someone shouts from the reporters.

“Not too bad, actually. Because this time around I knew what to expect both in terms of the physical and mental challenge of being in the Olympics, it was much easier this time around.”

“How about the next winter olympics?”

“I’m going to see how I do, but even winning one gold was way past my biggest and wildest dreams that I can’t really imagine how much farther I want to go. I have a feeling though for the next year or so, I’m going to take some time off to finally enjoy snowboarding as a hobby again, instead of my profession. It’s what keeps the creativity coming.”

“And about your scandal with y/n?!”

The cameras begin zooming in wildly as the channel tries to avoid panning toward the frantic gossip news reporter who’d somehow managed to make it into the questioning room. Jungkook’s expression twitches, the grin always staying proud on his face, but you can tell that he’s caught off guard. The room you’re sitting in goes quiet as Irene leans forward to listen to how Jungkook responds.

“This year,” Jungkook begins, clearing his throat, “was a year that harbored a lot of surprises and achievements that I’d never even dreamed of. I’m just really thankful for all the support that I got, whether it was from my teammates, fellow Olympians, or even close friends. I’m thankful for y/n, my team, my fans, and everyone I met during the games here, and I hope the best for all of them in the next coming games. Next question please.” He smiles as the camera gracefully pans to another sports news reporter who asks him how he felt about his teammates.

The room deflates in relief, and you’re sitting there, eyes glued to the screen that zooms into Jungkook’s flawless face, and you swallow thickly.

“Damn,” Hoseok breathes out, blinking between you and the screen, “Well that was uncalled for.”

Irene nods. “He answered well though. Guess that’s what being in the spotlight does for you. He didn’t affirm nor deny and just glossed past it. That was pretty smooth.”

You bite the rim of your cup.

Hoseok shakes his head though. “He didn’t deny it though, won’t that just cause more drama?”

Irene shrugs, turning to you. The others have shuffled out of the room, leaving you and your teammates to speak privately. “So, what are you guys? Since you broke up with him, are you guys just strangers? Friends?”

You shrug, half-mindedly stirring the tea. “I...I don’t know. We never were dating, anyways. So I don’t know what that means.”

“Y/N went to go see him though,” Hoseok comments. He turns to you, narrowing his eyes. “Did he see you?”

You shrug again, blinking at the yellow jacket that’s hung up on the coat rack to dry. “I’m really not sure. Even if he did see me, I’m not even sure if he recognized the jacket in the first place. I...I just don’t know.”

Irene pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it for now,” She says lowly, “The competition is the day after tomorrow, so you should get some rest.”

You nod and turn in for the night, crawling into your covers as Irene and Hoseok make their way to the rink to get in some more training. You curl into your sheets, staring at the empty screen of your phone, scrolling through day-old notifications, hoping that the familiar ding would sound and Jungkook’s name would light up.

But it doesn’t.

You’re positive he’d made eye contact with you, but in the craze of his win, did he even have the time to register that it was you? Sure, he’d even said so himself that the yellow jacket was one of his favorites, and there was no way anyone could miss the bright colors, but was it really enough for him to notice you within the crowd of onlookers? You’d been so nasty to him, “breaking up” as Irene called it with him in the worst way possible, and for you to show up suddenly in the jacket he’d left behind, you’d doubt the possibility if it were you.

Too many questions plague your mind that night. You don’t sleep well.

D-1

“One two three four, jump! Good, and don’t over rotate--!” Your coach’s voice rings over the ice, as you huff out and land perfectly on the blade of your skate, turning gracefully as you pirouette into the next part of the routine.

She’d insisted on you getting used to wearing the full outfit, so you were decked out in the beautiful sky-blue dress, the chiffon material skirting and flowing around your thighs, and the polished whites of your skates stiff against your ankles. Your hair was slicked back into a tight bun, and makeup was done by Irene as you skirted through the routine.

Your ankle doesn’t hurt much anymore, just a slight twinge. It only bothers you when you land wrong on the triple toe loop, but you were just going to have to be more careful about that or else coach would take you out immediately and stop you from competing. Better to bow out earlier than to tumble and fall on the ice, she’d always said.

You finish the routine with the signature flourish, and your teammates who were watching on the sidelines clap with loud cheers as you finish and skate over to the sidelines where coach nods approvingly. In the corner of your eye, you can see Jimin and Seokjin sitting on the bleachers, grinning widely and throwing thumbs up at you from where they are and you flash a big smile and wave at them to thank them for coming. Irene gets on the ice next, ready to go through her own routine.

Coach walks up to you with a neutral expression.

“How are you feeling?”

You look up from your skates and lean back on the bleachers. “I’m okay,” You say thoughtfully, “I just need some good rest tonight.” You lean down to tighten your laces.

She nods, crossing her arms. “Are you sure? I didn’t just mean physically.”

Your fingers freeze, and you look up to meet eyes with her. She sighs, uncrossing her arms and taking a seat next to you. “I know I’ve been hard on you,” she mutters, “But it’s because we all see the potential in you. You can do whatever the heck you want after the games, but during, you need to stay focused on what you’re really really passionate about.”

You take a look at her. “Coach...thanks. For everything.” Coach was a great great woman, she was kind, and driven. But you know that a particular reason why she’s been so hard on you is because she knows what it feels like to lose focus during a competition and reap the consequences. The last olympics she ever did was the same one where her rival had won a world record, and feeling nervous for her own score, had tried to add a bit more flourish to her practiced routine and tumbled on the ice because of it. She’d twisted her ankle during the fall and had thus ended her professional career on the ice that she’d once loved and thought she’d be on forever.

She nods, and then stands, brushing off her pants. “Um,” she says awkwardly, “There’s someone here to see you... Might help you put a lot of your thoughts to rest before the games.”

You frown as she walks away, and then Jungkook rounds the corner.

Your jaw falls open as your fingers still on the laces of your skates. He hesitates as he sees your expression, but nonetheless kneels in front of you and grasps the laces from your fingers and begins tightening them like he did with your snow boots.

“What...what are you doing here?” You whisper, glancing around to see if there are any reporters around.

He doesn’t say much, but just finishes tying your skates and then just leans back to look up at you. His dark circles are horrible, mirroring yours. “I asked your coach to let me see you. I wanted to say something before the games started.”

You frown, staring down at your knees. “I...”

“Wait,” he cuts you off, taking your hand in his and stroking your knuckles with his thumb. “I just came here to say this one thing. I saw you there. During my win. And that made me think a lot. And I’ve come to this conclusion:” he looks up at you, staring at you for a moment before continues. “We’re both really young, and at the peak of our careers. I know what you’re scared of, and I know what’s at stake. We have to prioritize our careers, and our goals. So I understand where you came from, but I also want to prioritize my dreams. And my dream is to be with the one I really care for.”

Your eyes widen, “Jungkoo--”

“--And I know your competition is tomorrow, so I wanted to tell you this before you compete: I support you and I’ll do anything you decide. It’s all in your hands, and I trust you. So, go out there, and kill ‘em.” He smiles, squeezing your hand once and fingers reaching out to brush your cheek. He leaves after that, leaving you on the verge of tears.

In the corner of your eye, coach nods at you, in mutual understanding, and walks away.

D-day.

“And now we welcome, Y/N, the final competitor of tonight’s female figure skating competition.”

You slide onto the ice with a smile, keeping your eyes on the ice and making sure it wasn’t too scratched up. You skate around the rink, getting a feel for the entire circle and then slowly centering yourself on the ice.

Jungkook watches from home, leaning into the television to get a better glimpse of the live stream. The announcer begins his commentary as you skate around and begin to center.

“We’ve seen Y/N a lot these days, and it’s her second Olympics of her career. What do you think is in store for her today, Hani?”

“Well, Seungkwan, Y/N is one of the ones I’ve been looking forward to. Last year was a bit of a rocky run, she just barely missed first place to Jennie Kim by a couple of points because of a sharper turn, but she’s been training hard for the last four years to compete today.”

“Yes. She’s outrageously popular, not just as an athlete, but for actually becoming an ice princess, because of how steely her focus is when she’s on the ice. She absolutely embodies the music and her motions are so in tune with her skating techniques for her age. It’s absolutely breathtaking.”

“Will she be able to handle today’s competition though? We’ll find out. Jennie Kim in the lead with a 216.73. After Y/N’s short program score of 74.92, she’ll need at least 141.82 to get that gold tonight.”

The camera zooms in on your figure, crouched low as you flutter your hands around you gracefully as you get into your starting position. The low notes of the piano sounds out, and you begin to spin gracefully, meeting the judge’s eyes with a playful smile.

“It’ll be this first combination that starts us off, the triple-triple combination, and OH! Yes! She lands it beautifully,” you spread your arms out as you do a beautiful twirl.

“And then the triple loop?! Wonderful! A little smile after that difficult move,” Hani comments as you grin a bit at how clean the jump was. You twirl and land a couple more simple spins and the usual footwork.

The music slows down into a swell of strings, signaling the end of the number. Jungkook watches, mesmerized as you glide effortlessly over the ice, just as he’d watched you do during practice.

“The last hurdle in this performance,” Seungkwan comments, “the triple lutz...?! Yes! Perfect! Oh my god this is one of the greatest performances I have ever seen!”

The music swells and swells as you finish off with a flourish of your arms. The crowd jumps to their feet and cheers, and Jungkook and his teammates do too, clapping for you. You’re crying, as he watches you on the screen, collapsing to a crouch on the ice as you sob, shoulders racking as you try to collect yourself and wave to the crowd. The small ice skaters come in their cute little uniforms, collecting the roses that have been thrown to you after the performance.

You clambor off the ice, meeting your coach and your mom in a huge hug, and Hoseok and Irene smiling at you from a bit off. It was everything you’d hoped for, and your body wracked with tears as you sob into the sweater of your mother’s comforting arms. Your ankle buckles under you, giving way to all the pressure and the pain and the burden that was suddenly lifted off your shoulders, your coach yelping and lunging forward to catch you.

She helps you to the bench, in the kiss and cry area where cameras are loaded and ready to film your reaction to your score. The announcement comes quickly.

“The scores please for F/N L/N of the Republic of Korea.”

“She has earned a 150.06, which is a seasons best!” The crowd erupts in cheers and screams and your coach bursts into tears and turns over to hug you. You’re frozen in fear and surprise and shock and it all crashes when you burst into tears, haphazardly waving back at the audience and thanking them for their support.

The rest of the night is a blur of emotions and pictures and interviews and ceremonies and hugs and kisses. You barely have time to catch your breath and wipe away the makeup smears before the next news or tabloid is shoving their cameras and mics in your face, asking and congratulating you. Your coach and mom stay close, holding your flowers and fan gifts closely, making sure you don’t break down. Most importantly, your coach makes sure you stay in one place, not putting too much strain on your already aching ankle.

Finally, it’s time for the official press conference, and coach guides you towards the table set up for you. You take the seat, smiling and trying to keep your eyes open at the onslaught of flashing cameras and yelling reporters.

It begins. “Miss Y/N!” A BBC reporter asks, “How hard did you train to achieve this feat? The performance was amazing!”

You smile, “Thank you so much. After getting silver four years ago, I really wanted to make sure I was able to achieve my goals this time around. I trained everyday, for a really long time, and made sure I was taking care of my mental and physical health.”

Another tabloid reporter pops up with a smirk, “Was this also with the help of your friends? Any specific people in mind? Like a fellow medalist perhaps?”

You see your coach perk up in the corner, her posture becoming stiff as she catches your eye and shakes her head no. You both know where this question is headed.

You smile. “I had a lot of support from my teammates and my family at that time. My coach and I made sure that I was surrounded with as many loved ones as possible. Thanks to them, and my fans, I was able to power through! My regimen was pretty demanding, such as waking up early and having to train everyday and build up some more strength, but I’m grateful for this medal, and will continue training even harder so I won’t let anyone down.”

Easily, the conversation shifts to topics regarding your training, but you can clearly see the sly disappointment on the reporter’s face as she sits down with a huff. The press conference continues easily, and your cheeks start to hurt from smiling too much and your fingers grip the mic too hard for it to be comfortable. It ends easily, though, and your coach and friends happily escort you down the stage and into the waiting room.

It was over. It was finally over.

Coach lets you go with your mom to a her hotel that night. You lug your suitcase in with you, following in her footsteps.

She smiles at you as she settles on the bed, patting the seat next to her. You smile as you settle into the soft mattress, sinking into the warm cushion and shrugging off your coat.

“How are you feeling?” She murmurs, tucking a hair behind your ear.

You shrug, fingers playing at the strap of your medal. “Not sure. I’ve been waiting for this day for ages, but now that it’s here, I’m not sure what to feel.”

She smiles, turning you a bit so that she can start taking out the stiff pins in your hair. Your scalp aches from the way it’s been held in its incredibly tight bun these past few days, and you sigh in relief as her gentle fingers begin caressing through the strands and removing all those sharp pins and tight elastics. Her fingers pass through your jawline, and she sighs.

“You’ve lost even more weight than before you left for the village.” She mutters, her voice tinged with worry.

You chuckle a bit tiredly, “Mom, you know I had to watch my weight. It’s fine. I feel fine.”

Her fingers hesitate, “You don’t seem fine.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

She finally finishes, running her hands freely through the length of your hair and letting it down. With a gentle hand on your shoulder, she turns you to face her, and her hands come up to frame your cheeks, stroking the skin there. “You’re my daughter, I think I know when you’re fine and when you’re not.”

A chuckle escapes your lips, and you think it might be a defense mechanism at this point. “What?”

“I heard, from coach. About the scandal.”

Your eyes drop to your lap, not being able to meet hers. “M-mom,” you stammer, but her hands gently guide your chin up to look back into her eyes. They glow in the warm golden light in the hotel room.

“I saw the way you two talked right before your performance,” she urges, a hand lifting to trace over your brow. It brings a twang to your heart, and your eyes begin to water. “I know, sweetie. You’ve worked so hard, and you’ve placed so much burden on your shoulders.” A tear escapes, and she catches it with her thumb. “I could never be any more proud of you, with or without that medal. I’m just proud of the fact that you’ve become a healthy, beautiful, woman. My best friend, my biggest supporter. I love you so much, honey.” She says, a tear escaping her own eye. “I don’t want you to think that you need to choose between me and your happiness. You can have it all. I want you to go for it. I don’t want you regret anything. Or else I’ll regret not being able to tell you to go for it.”

The tears break, streaming down your cheeks as your shoulders rack and your mouth opens in a wail that you’ve been holding in for the past two weeks.

“Mom!” you cry, collapsing into her arms, “I love him so much!”

She just nods and pats your back, smoothing her palm down and in soothing circles as you cry it out. You cry, all the weight from the competition and the performance and the scandal all collapsing on your shoulders with a heaviness that you wash away with your tears.

She whispers, “I never really talked a lot about your dad, did I?”

You sniffle, wiping away your tears and staring up at her. “Not much, why?”

She smiles, tucking your hair behind your ear. “He was really successful, he was a medical student, and set to take over his father’s hospital. But when he met me, he decided he wanted to pursue art, and he was so great at it. His parents were so against his career choice and him marrying me, but he was so happy,” she smiles, “He passed so soon, he wasn’t able to see you come all the way here, but I know that he’s watching. And you know what he would say if he were in your situation right now? He would tell you to go for it, to follow where your heart is leading you.”

Jungkook’s head shoots up when he hears a loud pounding on his door. Locking his phone shut, he takes out his earbuds and bounds up to open the door.

His eyes widen, “Y/N--”

You lunge forward with your arms stretched wide, wrapping around his middle and cuddling him close to yourself. He’s warm, his heart thudding loudly next to your ear and his shirt smelling exactly like him. “Wait, Y/N, what’s wrong?” He says, shutting the door and an arm coming to wrap around your shoulders.

You just bury your face into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin that makes your heart race. “I don’t want to leave here regretting that I didn’t get to say this.” you mutter into his neck, clutching the nylon of his athletic jacket between your fingers tightly. “I missed you, I’m so thankful for you, and I want to choose the one I love too.”

Jungkook’s body stiffens, and you screw your eyes shut. Maybe he was done with your indecisiveness. Maybe he was sick of waiting around for you, or maybe he was disappointed that you’re only saying this after both of you had won your medals. Maybe he thought you were a selfish bitch. His hands finally move from your shoulders to yours on his back, carefully unwrapping your fingers on his jacket. He pulls away, stepping back to look at your face.

You blink up at him. You’d prepared yourself for this. It wasn’t about him accepting you. It was about his decision, and his feelings.

But instead of pushing you away, and cursing at you, he squeezes your hands in his and smiles gently. “Are you sure?” He asks softly. “All the stuff you worked so hard for, it might end up being lost.”

You nod, smiling even though a few tears slip down your cheek. “I’m prepared for that. And honestly if this fame and hard work isn’t strong enough to withstand the reality of my happiness, then I don’t want it. I’ll work hard again anyway and build a reputation that matters. I’m sure of this, Jungkook. I want you.”

He doesn’t answer and just cradles your face between his hands and draws you in for a hard kiss. You sigh into it, hands wrapping around his wrists and stepping closer to him. But the both of you are smiling too much to be able to kiss properly, and it dissolves into giggles. You throw your arms around his neck and hug him properly again, laughing as he lifts you up and spins you.

You’d started skating when you were young because you thought those girls on the ice were like princesses in their pretty dresses and beautiful moves. You’d wished that maybe, just maybe, ice skating yourself would grant you a chance to a happily ever after too.

But you got something way better than a fairytale-princesses ending.

You got Jungkook.

#jungkook fics #bts fics #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #mine #writing #fics #jungkook #snow and ice

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avenging-criminal-bones · 4 years

Text

97%

Irondad & Spiderson

Word Count: 1450

Summary: Peter is promised a surprise if he gets at least a 97% on his English essay

Warnings: This is one of those rare times where I wrote pure fluff

* * * * *

"Sorry Ned, I totally forgot." Peter sighs a little after he puts his phone away. he had just gotten a text from Happy reminding Peter that he wouldn't be coming to get him after school today. "Mr. Stark is picking me up from school today. I can't do the sleepover. I'm sorry, bro." Peter talks fast as the two of them walk down the hallway to their last class of the day.

Peter doesn't miss his friend's disappointed sigh, but he doesn't have time to think about it when Ned punches him in the arm.

"Wait! Doesn't Mr. Stark always pick you up on Friday's?" He eyes Peter suspiciously, making Peter squirm.

"No. Well, yes- But today it's actually Mr. Stark. Not Happy under Stark's request." He dumbly explains the situation to Ned and rubs at his face to try and wipe the cringe off of it.

"Hold on. Mr. Stark is going to be in a lambo in," Ned checks his watch and continues, "43 minutes, to pick YOU up from school?" He looks at his watch again and says, "Sorry, 42 minutes."

Laughing, Peter starts to walk away. He nods as he answers, "Pretty much, except it's actually going to be an Audi. Mr. Stark doesn't drive lambos. He says they hurt his butt." Peter looks down and then back up at Ned, who was still staring with awe at his watch.

He mumbled '41 minutes' as he turned to start walking to his desk.

They part ways then to take their seats on opposite sides of the classroom. If there was one smart teacher at Midtown, this was is. Mrs. Graydon was the only teacher who noticed Ned and Peter's constant talking and she separated them within the first week of school.

The next 41 minutes after they sit down, Peter doesn't even pay attention to the lecture. The time is spent with Peter sharing excited looks at Ned, longing glances at MJ, and a threatening text from Mr. Stark.

Mr. Stark! :) : Spiderling. If you do not bring me an English paper with a 97% or higher, the only thing you will be doing at the compound this weekend will be writing English papers. See you in a few kid.

Peter sends back a string of emojis and looks up at the clock. After that he glances over at Ned who is just looking up from his watch. He mouths 'three minutes'.

Nodding his head, Peter has to try and keep the smile off of his face when Mrs. Graydon sends a sharp glare to him.

Soon enough, the bell rings and Peter is springing out of his desk. On his way out he bumps Ned in a short goodbye and all but runs to the back of the school where Happy usually picks him up. Before he even stepped out through the doors, Peter saw Mr. Stark, sitting in a bright blue Audi.

"Ha! I knew it!" He whispers to himself in excitement. His steps gradually get bigger, and closer to strides, but soon enough he is throwing himself into the car.

"Woah! Underoos, if you get in any faster you're going to forget your body and I'll just have a couple feet in my car." Tony looks at the kid and sighs before adding, "Why were you running like you were in an old cartoon, kid?"

Peter's smile never falters as he says, "Because I won." He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, holding it right in Tony's face. "Look!" He drops it in his mentor's lap and waits with a smug smile as Tony unfolds it.

"99%. Huh. Not bad, kid." Peter knew he was trying to act like it was no big deal, but he could hear the pride lacing the older man's words.

Matter-of-factly, Peter said, "You have to put it on one of your fridges now. Preferably the one in the common room so all the Avengers can see how undeniably amazing I am."

Tony lets out a deep laugh and nods, "Duly noted, Pete. You did good. I suppose I have to carry through with my promised surprise now?" He puts the gear in drive and looks around before pulling out of the school parking lot.

Peter was quick to shake his head. "Oh! Uh, no sir- Mr. Stark, if it's a bother-"

"Kid, I told you I would. Besides, you did great things. I'm proud of you, I want to do it." Tony glanced over at the blushing kid and chuckled. Peter's face was red and he was embarrassed, but now he was also happy. Mr. Stark is proud of me.

That thought alone was enough to get Peter's smile back. "Alright. Thank's Mr. Stark, I really appreciate it."

Waving his thanks off, Tony's smugness comes back, "So a 99%? What happened with the one?"

"I used the word 'butt' and my teacher got mad." Peter bitterly scowls. "It wasn't even bad, I just said, 'like a butt on the subway', but that's to be expected!"

Tony can't help but snicker, "What was the essay about?" He was glad that his attempt at distracting the kid was working. He really wanted the trip to be a surprise.

"The cleanliness of public transportation." Peter looks down at the -1 on his paper. "Which, by the way, is something that I will never use again. It's disgusting in there."

"I wouldn't know." Tony mumbles as he pulls the car into the parking lot of a small building with neon signs in the window. Peter looks up at the place when he feels the car slowing down.

His eyes blow wide and he looks at Mr. Stark in disbelief. "Wait! You brought me to a putt putt place?"

"Um. No. I brought us to a putt putt place. I am a master, so prepare to get your ass kicked." Tony says the words in a 'duh' voice as he steps out of the car. Peter rushes to catch up with him. "You think I am just gonna sit and watch?"

Peter couldn't believe it. Mr. Stark, an Avenger, was going to play a game of putt putt? With him? "Uh. Wait. Mr. Stark, you know where we are right? And what putt putt is?" Peter looks at the ground where his feet shuffle awkwardly, waiting for his mentor to change his mind. He looks up when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"Pete, how old do you think I am? You know, don't answer that. Yes, I know, and yes, I want to." Tony sends him a slight smile and starts walking again. "When we get back to the compound we are going to apparently have a very long self-worth talk." He looks down again to see Peter smiling wide and shaking his head.

"It's not that! I was just making sure that Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist knew what he signed up for." Peter laughs a little as they grab clubs and brightly colored golf balls.

"How do you know about that?!" Tony glanced over to the kid in shock and placed the red ball down. He hit it and watched as it barely made it half of the way to the basic hole.

Peter smirks and lines up his blue golf ball. He hits it harder than Tony had and chuckles when it sinks easily into the first hold. "Cap and I are tight, man."

Tony huffs about how, 'the Avengers need to keep their traps shut' as he finishes the whole.

After the next five holes go the same, Peter places a hand on Tony's arm. "It seems as though the apprentice has surpassed the master."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get out of here, I'm a tired old man." Tony chuckles a little, but tries to stay calm and collected.

Peter stops at the car and stands in front of Tony's door. He starts speaking almost too fast for Tony to keep up.

"Thank you so, so, so, much! That was AWESOME! You suck at it, but it's really cool. Thank's Dad- Mr- Tony- Iron- Uh. Thanks, Mr. Stark." Peter gives a sheepish smile and looks down quickly. He rushes around the car and gets in as Tony stands there, trying to process what the kid just said. Once it registers though, left on his face is a fond smile.

Anytime, son.

He wipes the smile off of his face so as not to give himself away and gets in the car.

"You hungry, kid?"

"Food! Yeah-Yes, yes. Thanks, Mr. Stark." Peter's face is still red, but he sends the older man a genuine smile as Tony starts the car.

#peter parker #tony stark #fluff #marvel #avengers #iron dad #spiderson #fluffy

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reciprocityfic · 4 years

Text

when there are no wars to fight

title: when there are no wars to fight fandom: wonder woman, dccu pairing: steve trevor x diana prince rating: T summary: so she goes to america, the comforting weight of his watch constantly weighing down her pocket, a crumpled piece of paper clutched tightly in her fist that bears a single address, written in etta's neat script.

trevor ranch 1202 owl creek lane meeteetse, wyoming

(diana goes home for steve after the war, desperately searching for more answers about the man she loved.)

author’s note: yay for my second wondertrev fic!

i started this awhile back, but finally got the inspiration to finish it because wondertrev love week put my butt into gear. i wanted to finish it in time for their day three writing prompt: trevor ranch.

hope you all like it! let me know what you think.

xoxo, rebekah

read on archive of our own

when there are no wars to fight

Etta asks her, one early, gray London morning in a quaint cafe, over tea and baked goods that somehow pass as breakfast, rather than dessert, in this strange world of Man. It’s been awhile, now, since victory was announced. Celebrations have come and gone, soldiers have returned home, and life has become fairly mundane again.

And her - she’s been waiting for some sort of sign telling her what to do next.

She’s thought of trying to go back to Themyscira - at least, for a little while; she made a promise to herself that she would not abandon this world, and it is something she intends to keep. A goal towards which she will strive for the remainder of her existence on this earth. But she decides against it, not wanting to mar her bright, shining memory of home with the burden of reality she now carries. Plus, she doesn’t want to have to say goodbye again. She fears it will hurt even more the second time around.

So she’s been in a sort of suspended state, neither here nor there. And it’s Etta, who finally asks her.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” she begins, peering at her over the rim of her teacup, “what are you going to do now that you’re not...y’know, fighting on the battlefield, saving the world, and the sort?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and Etta - perpetually polite to a T - puts down her cup, and begins apologizing.

“It’s not that I don’t want you around. The opposite, actually - I quite enjoy your company. I’m just wondering what someone...like you does when there are no wars to fight - “

When there are no wars to fight.

The rest of Etta’s words fade away until that phrase is all she can hear, ringing over and over in her ears.

“Is this what people do when there are no wars to fight?”

“This, and other things.”

“What things?”

She supposes that’s what she must now figure out.

“Oh, dear. I’ve offended you, haven’t I?” Etta humphs, before taking a large bite of a scone and rolling her eyes at herself.

“You haven’t offended me,” she assures her, smiling softly. Etta sighs in relief, and then cracks a joke that she doesn’t quite get because she’s still trying to figure out the ins and outs of society. Humor will be one of the last things to come.

“Where would he have gone?”

She’s dodging Etta’s question. She doesn’t want to think about the future and all the unknowns that it presents. They’ve been gnawing at her brain enough recently, and she doesn’t wish to talk about them. At least not now.

But that doesn’t mean her curiosity isn’t genuine, her inquiry insincere. It’s been one of the main things on her mind, in fact. What was his life like without war? Who was he when he woke up to peace instead of fighting, safe in a bed instead of huddled inside a tent in some foreign land? What would he have shown her, taught her?

What could they have been together?

“Home, I suppose.”

Etta’s answer pulls her from her thoughts. She looks at the woman, who stares back at her with her lips pressed together in a sad smile.

“Did he miss it?” she asks. “His home?”

He never spoke to her of home. She remembers his anecdote about his father, back in Themyscira.

“My father used to say, you see something wrong in the world, you can either do nothing, or you can do something.”

His father, whose watch now sits in the pocket of her coat. She hasn’t let it out of her sight since she found it after her battle with Ares, sitting on a piece of broken concrete. Somehow, it remained in perfect condition, just as it was as he placed it in her hands before marching off to sacrifice himself. She ran her fingers over the leather of the band, the glass covering the face, watched the tick tick tick of the second hand, and vowed to never let it out of her sight.

It was now the most important object to her, more valuable than any shield or sword would ever be. She will protect it with her life. And the constant weight of it has been one of few comforts over the past weeks. A piece of him to carry with her, always.

And she can’t help but wonder what other pieces of him might be left behind.

“Where was his home?” she continues. “His family? Did he speak of them with you? Have you met them? Have - “

“My, my,” Etta interrupts, “you’re like a question machine.”

She pauses, mouth still open around her next inquiry. Feeling herself begin to blush, she closes her lips, bites down on the bottom one.

“I want to know him,” she explains softly, looking down at their table, fingers playing with the edge of the ivory lace tablecloth.

“And that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Etta assures her gently. “Of course, I’ll tell you what I know. It’s not much, to be honest - just bits and pieces. He was a spy, after all. But all the information I do have is back at the office.”

She nods, takes one more short sip of tea and then rises. Because now she’s decided. Her next steps in life are no longer murky; rather, they shine brightly in the surrounding darkness, beckoning her forward. She doesn’t want to wait now that she knows where she’s going.

She’s going home for him.

Etta hurriedly gathers herself and rushes after her.

“You certainly don’t let any grass grow under your feet, do you?”

She smiles at Etta’s mumbling as she pushes the door to the cafe open. She doesn’t quite get it - more humor and quirks in language that go over her head - but she suspects it’s supposed to be funny. She’s about to ask Etta what it means when she’s nearly knocked over by two people passing on the sidewalk.

“Sorry, love!” the man shouts in apology, before laughing alongside the woman besides him.

She watches them as they continue together, their joined hands swinging between them.

“Why are they holding hands?”

“Probably because they’re together.”

She remembers the way her heart stuttered when she took his fingers between hers, so innocently that first time. And then later, not so innocently - that night in Veld.

Her heart had skipped that same beat.

Now, her heart contracts, breaks for the one thousandth time over missing him so profoundly. Cries as it watches the strangers turn the corner, moans miserably as the memory plays in her head.

And her smile slips.

* * *

She goes to America.

That’s where he’s from, after all; she’d known that much. Etta confirms this for her, and soon after her tickets are booked and her bags are packed.

There’s no one there to see her off as she boards the ship to New York City. Etta was starting secretary work for someone new the morning she was set to leave, so she made her dinner the night before and then said goodbye with a warm hug, grasping her hand as she walked out the door.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Diana,” she murmured.

She smiled, squeezed her hand back before letting go.

“I hope so, too.”

There’s no one to see her off, but she stands on the ship’s deck anyways, staring down at the crowd gathered onshore. She watches the people leaving wave to the people staying behind, shouting goodbyes and words of love that surely the other won’t be able to hear. But they shout anyway, continue to wave even as the ship pulls away and those on land become dots on the horizon.

She goes to America, his watch always on her person, a crumpled piece of paper clutched tightly in her fist that bears a single address, written in Etta’s neat script.

Trevor Ranch 1202 Owl Creek Lane Meeteetse, Wyoming

She takes a train from New York to Cheyenne, and then takes a different, smaller one - one she’s sure isn’t really meant for passengers - to the town the paper in her hand denotes as his.

Meeteetse.

That’s all the sign outside the small train station says when she reaches her destination, painted in blood-orange capital letters against a dark wood background. The only thing to signal that she’s in the right place, along with the railway worker’s word as he escorted her from the train.

“Yep, this’s Meeteetse,” he assures in a slow drawl. “Doesn’t get many guests. They’ll prolly throw a parade for you.”

He laughs at his own joke. He’s a good deal shorter than her, his face covered with a thin layer of dirt. She smiles back politely, but moves herself onto the station platform quickly. She is ready to leave traveling behind. Ready to get where she was going.

She’s ready to find his home.

She turns on her heel, starts towards the dirt path that leads to the tiny town, and the worker shouts as he reboards the train.

“Hope you find what you’re looking for, sweetheart!”

The words make her pause. They’re the same ones Etta had told her as she left her apartment that last night. She finds she misses the woman already.

She continues on, every step she takes kicking up a cloud of dust beneath her feet. By the time she gets to the center of town, there’s a significant amount of dirt covering her black boots, just as there was on the railway worker’s face. Just as there seems to be on everything in this town, at least from the outside.

It’s so different from London or New York, or even Cheyenne. So quiet. So full of nothingness.

She looks around, sees a car parked in front of a general store, a few horses tied up alongside a building that says ‘Saloon’. She looks for some sort of center or government building - a town hall, perhaps - but finds none. She chews on her bottom lip, not sure what to do next. She turns to the other side of the street.

A single building stands in front of her, made of the same dark brown wood that seems to be the building material for every structure in town. A sign, much like the one outside the train station, hangs over the door, painted with blood-orange letters that spell out ‘HOTEL’ this time, instead of the town’s name.

She decides it’s her best shot, and walks to the door. As she opens it, a bell rings, alerting the man she sees sitting at a desk in the corner of the small lobby to her presence. He looks up from the book he’s reading, a cigarette hanging between his lips.

“You need a room?” he inquires, voice low and raspy.

“No,” she answers quickly. “At least, not right now. Maybe later.”

The man at the desk tilts his head slightly.

“What can I help you with, then?”

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out right away. Instead, she realizes she’s still standing in the entryway, door swung open. She steps inside, letting the door go.

“I-”

The door slams behind her, cutting her off, and she flinches at the loud sound.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the man asks.

She smiles shyly, and shakes her head, twisting the toe of her boot into the floor.

She’s nervous. She’s in a new place, with no one to guide her this time. And it’s so different from all the other places she’s been in this world. If anything, it reminds her of Veld. A bit smaller, perhaps.

“Can you tell from the way I’m stuttering and stumbling about?” she jokes, hoping it will break the tension in the room. She looks up at the man, and he puts on a friendly smile.

“That. And there’s the fact that I know everyone in this town, and you’re not anyone I know. Don’t get many visitors, either. But when we do get ‘em, they don’t look nothing like you.”

He drops his cigarette on the ground, stubs it out with his shoe. Then, he takes an extra one from behind his ear, rummaging around his desk and grabbing a box of matches.

“I am wondering,” he begins, as he strikes one and uses it to light his cigarette, “if I can’t get you a room, what it is I can do for you.”

“I was hoping you could help me find something. A place,” she tells him.

He shrugs.

“Not many places ‘round here, but go ‘head.”

She clenches the slip of paper, still in her fist. However, she doesn’t need to look at it. She’d memorized the address only moments after Etta gave it to her.

“Trevor Ranch,” she begins. “1202 Owl Creek La-”

“I know Trevor Ranch,” he interrupts.

Her eyes light up, and she takes a few steps forward.

“You do?”

“Yep,” he confirms, sticking his thumb out towards the left. “‘Bout ten miles down the road thataway.”

Ten miles. A little far to walk, though she could manage, of course. But if there was another way.

“Do you know anyone who could take me there? Or…” she thinks, “a horse! If you had a horse I could borrow, I could ride it there and -”

“Whoa there, slow down,” he interrupts again. “Listen, I don’t have a horse for you to borrow. But I see out the window that Johnny’s car is across the street in front of the general store. He’ll drive you to Trevor Ranch.”

“He will? How much does he charge?”

“He won’t charge ya anything,” he says, laughing. “Jee, you’re really not from around here. Just tell ‘im you want to go to the ranch, and he’ll take you. Tell him Stu sent you.”

“Thank you so much,” she tells him as she turns to leave. “Really. Thank you.”

He laughs again, and waves at her as she exits the building. She marches across the street towards the store, newfound confidence and excitement radiating through her. There’s a man at the back of the now, loading something in.

“Excuse me! Are you Johnny?”

“Jesus!” the man exclaims, jumping slightly and spilling a crate full of corn onto the ground. “Warn a guy, won’t ya?”

The man turns around with a startled and slightly annoyed look on his face. His eyes widen for a moment when he sees her, but then his brow furrows.

“Yeah, I’m Johnny. John. Who are you?”

“My name is Diana,” she begins, and motions towards the hotel. “Stu, from the hotel - he said that you could drive me to Trevor Ranch.”

He frowns, and then bends down to put the corn back in its crate. He loads it in the back of the car, and then shuts the door, turning towards her.

“What do you wanna go there for?” he asks, looking her over suspiciously.

“I, uh -”

She pauses, looking down at her feet. She’s still not good at lying. She steadies herself, planting her feet in the ground and putting on a sweet smile before looking up.

“I know them. The Trevors. From a long time ago.”

“Huh,” he says. “Like an old family friend?”

“Yes. An old family friend. Exactly that.”

He nods, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Get in,” he tells her.

“Thank you,” she says, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much.”

She can feel her anticipation build as she gets in the car, as the vehicle starts and drives away. Ten miles, he said. Ten miles until she would be there.

She sits in the car, looks out the window at the scenery zooming past. She can’t concentrate. She feels jittery, but in a good way. The way she felt the night before her first training with Antiope. Her stomach turns in the same way it did in Veld, when he took her to teach her to dance. She can barely sit still, bouncing her knees up and down, up and down.

Suddenly, John pulls off the road, and the car screeches to a halt.

Her face scrunches in confusion, and she looks at the man beside her.

“What are you -”

“I know you’re not an old family friend of the Trevors,” he begins rapidly, crossing his arms in front of him. “I’m an old family friend of the Trevors, so I would know you, or at least have heard of you if you were. Plus, because I’m an old family friend, I know for a fact that Dorothy and El have never been fifty miles from the ranch in their whole lives, and you sure as hell ain’t from around here.”

She gapes at him. She’s been caught in her lie, and she doesn’t know how to escape now.

“Look, I’m not trying to be mean or nothin’,” he says with a sigh, “but I gotta be there for them now. I gotta protect them. I have been the past few years, and now that...now that Steve’s not comin’ back -”

The breath leaves her chest at the mention of his name.

“You know Steve?” she whispers.

“Yeah, I know Steve. I’m an old family friend, I told you. You know Steve?”

“Yes,” she breathes, nodding her head slowly.

“How?”

“We fought together in the war,” she answers, without thinking.

He stares at her like she’s just grown a second head. She clears her throat, falls back on a lie they’d used before.

“He fought,” she says. “I didn’t. Obviously. I was his secretary.”

John hums, and looks out on the road in front of them.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Diana,” she says, swallowing once, praying that Steve had never mentioned Etta’s name. “Diana Prince.”

“Diana Prince,” he says slowly.

He stares out of the front window for a few more minutes, a frown on his face, and then turns the car back on. He pulls back out onto the dirt road and starts driving again, and she closes her eyes in relief.

“Do you have something for Dorothy and El?” he asks. “For their dad? Is that why you’re here?”

“No,” she says hesitantly, thinking of the watch in her pocket briefly before banishing the thought from her mind. The watch was hers. He gave it to her, and it was all she had of him - at least for the moment. No one could take it from her.

“Then what’re you doing here?”

She doesn’t answer right away, carefully choosing her words. Trying to convey her purpose without giving everything away.

“I was very...fond of him. Steve. While we worked together, we created a great friendship. And I guess I just wanted to...get to know him better. Even better than I did.”

“That...makes sense, I guess,” he tells her, still frowning.

She nods, smiling quickly when he glances over at her.

The rest of the drive is quiet, the car the only thing filling the space with noise. She continues to stare out the window, but she doesn’t really see any of the scenery. She’s too nervous now, the feeling churning in her gut closer to fear now, rather than eagerness.

The car begins to slow, and she sits up straight, becoming more aware. Something outside catches her eye. Another sign - made of the same wood as the town, but this time with white letters, instead of red.

TREVOR RANCH

As the car turns into the long dirt driveway, her heart stops, then starts again in double-time.

“Do they know you’re coming?” John asks her.

“No,” she answers. “I didn’t...I didn’t have a number, or I would’ve called. Is it okay? That I’m here?”

“It’ll be fine,” he sighs. “Just...be careful. Be nice. They’re not really in a good place right now, with everything that’s going on. Especially Dorothy, and I don’t even want to think about Mr. Trevor. El is okay, because she’s young, I think. But the rest of them…”

He trails off as he stops the car next to a red barn.

“I just don’t want your visit to get ruined because someone gets offended or says the wrong thing.”

He turns the engine off and they both exit the vehicle. She closes her door, looks out in front of her.

There’s a tiny white house about a stone’s throw away from them. Her eyes widen as she takes it in - his childhood home.

She can’t help the grin that breaks out onto her face. The fear in her stomach has swirled back into excitement, and she takes off towards the house, trying her best not to run. She notices after a moment, though, that John isn’t following her. Instead, he’s walking towards the barn.

“You’re not coming with me?” she shouts over her shoulder.

“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “Got work to do.”

He walks off, and she watches him as she prepares herself to continue towards the house. He disappears into the barn, and her heart drops the smallest bit.

She’d become sort of attached to him in their short car ride - attached to someone who knew Steve like she did. Plus, he seemed to believe her story. She expected he would vouch for her when she met with Dorothy and El.

Dorothy and El.

She doesn’t know for sure who they are, but she suspects they are his sisters. She wonders what they will be like. If they’ll approve of her. If they’ll believe her story.

If they’ll be anything like Steve was.

She starts off towards the house again, determination in her every step. Her heart pounds as she steps onto the front porch. She stops in front of the door. Before she knocks, she reaches into her pocket, runs her fingers over his watch.

Then, she steps forward, and pounds her fist gently against the door.

No one answers for a while. In fact, she’s just raised her hand to knock again when the door creaks open with a soft creak.

A girl stands before her. And that’s what she is - a girl, not a woman. She can’t be any older than eighteen, in her best estimation. She’s a whole head shorter than her, with long blonde hair and hazel eyes that look up at her curiously, her brow furrowed.

“Who are you?” she asks, her voice light and trilling.

It takes her a moment to respond. She’s caught off guard - this isn’t who she expected to answer the door. By the time she gathers herself and opens her mouth, someone else appears in the background.

“El, why are you standing there with the door wide -”

The other person - a woman this time, just as tall as her and seemingly around the same age - stops speaking when she sees her, walking up behind the girl and putting her hands on the girl’s shoulders.

“Who are you?” she asks, echoing the girl’s question, but not mimicking her curiosity. Instead, she seems annoyed, almost. Upset that someone is there, bothering them.

Again, it takes a moment for her to say something. She’s taken aback again, this time for a very different reason.

This woman - she looks just like him. Light brown hair, baby blue eyes. She even has the same nose, and she’s taken back to when she first met Steve, hovering over him on the beach as he regained consciousness, studying his face. He was objectively beautiful, she determined quickly, and this woman is, too.

Steve had only become more and more beautiful to her as she got to know him, as she learned his heart and soul. She remembers that night in Veld, running her fingertips gently down his face, cherishing him as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

“Hello? Hey, lady!”

She’s pulled out of her memories by the woman’s voice. She looks visibly bothered now, the impatience in her voice now displayed in the expression on her face.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes quickly. “I just…”

But she trails off again, not knowing what to say. Should she be plain with the two people in front of her, and simply tell them the truth? Should she attempt to play a part, like she did with John? She wishes, again, that he had come to the door with her, that he could explain why she was there.

The woman, meanwhile, rolls her eyes. She’s about to say something, but the girl cuts her off with her gentle voice.

“How did you even get here?”

She smiles softly, trying to convey some sort of friendliness.

“I met John in town. In Meeteetse. And he agreed to drive me here.”

“I’m gonna kill that guy,” the woman mutters under her breath. “Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but we’re not really in the mood for visitors right now. So if you could just...go, we’d really appreciate it.”

She turns, then, pulling the girl along with her, going to shut the door. But she reaches her arm out quickly to stop the woman from closing it, utilizing some of her extraordinary strength to ensure the door would stay open.

“Please,” she begs. “This is important! I knew your brother.”

She feels the pressure on the door lessen immediately. The woman’s face softens the tiniest bit.

“I knew Steve,” she says again. “He was your brother, right?”

The two don’t answer, just stare at her. So she keeps going, looking down at the girl.

“And you’re El,” she tells her, and then looks back at the woman. “Then you must be Dorothy. John told me your names.”

“How did you know my brother?” the girl - El - asks. Her face is brighter now, and the interest in her eyes has grown tenfold. “Wait - do you want to come in?”

“El,” Dorothy sighs. “We don’t even know if she’s telling the truth.”

“She is!” El insists. “I can tell. You always say I’m good at reading people.”

“We don’t even know her name.”

“Diana,” she supplies quickly. “Diana Prince.”

“And now we know her name,” El announces, turning to her sister. “Come on, Dot, please? Let’s just...talk to her.”

Dorothy hesitates, eyes darting between her and El. Finally, she sighs heavily, rolling her eyes again.

“Fine. Come in, I guess,” she says, opening the door wider. Then she looks at her sister, mutters to her, “Don’t call me Dot. You know I hate that.”

The two sisters disappear inside. Before following them, she closes her eyes, lifts her head up towards the sky.

“Please give me the words to say,” she whispers to him. “Please help them to like me.”

* * *

They lead her to a table in the corner of a tiny kitchen, newspapers scattered all over it. Dorothy offers her coffee, and she accepts to be polite. She doesn’t really like coffee; it’s too bitter for her taste.

She sits down with El, and Dorothy comes over a moment later, handing Diana a red mug full of the hot, brownish-black liquid. She pulls out her chair and sits down, gathering up the newspapers and tossing them onto the black and white checkered linoleum floor.

“So,” El begins, smiling at her. “How did you know my brother?”

She smiles back at the girl, glances at Dorothy out of the corner of her eye.

“Well, I was his secretary during the war,” she explains. “We worked closely together on many occasions.”

Dorothy hums, and takes a sip of her coffee. She looks over at El, and sees the girl’s face has fallen just a bit.

“His secretary?” she asks.

She sounds confused by this, and Diana feels her palms begin to sweat, fearing El has somehow caught her in her lie.

But before she can try and answer, Dorothy speaks.

“Yeah, El. Remember he wrote about a secretary in one of his letters? She would organize his missions, and stuff like that.”

El still hesitates for a moment, staring at her strangely, before plastering on a pleasant smile.

“Oh yeah,” she murmurs. “I forgot.”

“He would write us letters,” Dorothy tells her quietly, “especially at the beginning, when he first enlisted. But then the war dragged on and on, and the letters came less often.”

“It’s not because he forgot about us, or missed us less,” El chimes in.

“Of course it wasn’t,” Diana agrees. “He was just more and more busy as the war continued. And he was a spy, of course, so it’s not like -”

“He was a spy?!” El shouts, half-standing from her chair.

“El!” Dorothy reprimands. “Stop shouting.”

“Oh!” Diana exclaims lightly. “You...you didn’t know that?”

“No,” El humphs. “They barely told us anything.”

Diana looks between the two of them as they quietly absorb this new information.

“Well, at least we know why, now,” Dorothy murmurs, then turns to her.

“Was he...good at it? Being a spy? I can’t see him as a spy,” she says, a slight smile appearing on her face, memories of her brother flooding her mind. “It seems like he would be...too virtuous, or something. Too earnest.”

“He was virtuous. Eager to do the right thing,” Diana agrees. “But that meant he was willing to do anything to make the war end and bring peace, even if that meant being a spy. And he was a brilliant spy. An admirable soldier.”

She hesitates, not knowing how much she should tell them about his death. She doesn’t know if they’ll want to hear about it, nor does she know if her heart can take speaking about it again - it seems to be getting harder, rather than easier, with time. However, she feels like she needs to tell them. They must know truly how admirable he was.

“I don’t know how much they told you about his...death,” she begins softly, “but I want you to know that he sacrificed himself to save many people. Thousands, perhaps. And that is the most honorable sacrifice one can make - to give their life, even for people they do not know.”

The room is quiet for a moment, as they remember their loved one - his life, his death, and his legacy.

“He was a very good man,” El says quietly.

“More than that,” Diana counters. “More than good. Extraordinary.”

“They sent us a letter when he died,” El explains, “but again, it didn’t say much. The only other thing we got was the story in the paper.”

She reaches down onto the floor, picks up one of the newspapers that Dorothy had gathered up earlier, and flips through the pages.

“These are from Cody,” Dorothy explains. “Mr. Stewart from the hotel picked some up for us when he was visiting relatives.”

“Who is Cody?” Diana asks, as El finally opens to a page and hands the paper to her.

“Cody is just another town. Bigger than Meeteetse.”

Diana doesn’t respond, because she’s too captivated by the newspaper in front of her.

VFW HONORS LOCAL HERO

There’s a picture of him staring back at her, a smile on his face. He’s young in the photo; it must have been taken when he first joined the army. She can tell not only by his physical appearance - there are less creases around his bright eyes - but also by the expression on his face. It’s innocent, almost. Naive. One that hasn’t witnessed the horrors of war and man.

She imagines it’s an expression similar to the one she wore, when she boarded the boat to leave Themyscira. Brave, but unsullied by the realities of the world.

She runs her fingers over the photo in front of her, traces the planes of his face and body with the tip of her index finger. She wishes that she’d know him then. That they’d grown up together.

That she’d been there for every moment of his life.

She smiles, but she can feel the pressure of tears start to build behind her eyes.

“You can keep that if you want,” El offers. “We have extras. Mr. Stewart brought us a lot of copies.”

“Thank you,” Diana breathes. “I think I will keep it.”

El smiles kindly.

They’re all quiet again for a minute. Then, Dorothy gets up.

“I have to get started on supper,” she says. “Dad will be getting hungry. El, why don’t you take Ms. Prince and show her around the ranch?”

“Please, call me Diana.”

“Alright then, Diana. Come on, let’s go!” El tells her as she gets up and walks out the front door.

Dorothy chuckles.

“She has too much energy for her own good sometimes.”

“How old is she?” Diana asks.

“Seventeen.”

“So young?”

“She was a unexpected surprise,” Dorothy explains, “long after Mom and Dad thought they were done havin’ babies. I was seventeen myself when she was born. Steve was fifteen.”

“May I ask where your mother is?” Diana inquires. “John said something about your father being here, but he didn’t mention your mother.”

Dorothy looks out the kitchen window for a long moment before answering.

“She died during childbirth.”

“I’m so sorry,” Diana murmurs.

“At least we have El - Eleanor. That was my mom’s name.”

A silence settles over the kitchen - Dorothy remembering her mother, Diana thinking of and missing her own mother - before Dorothy eventually speaks again.

“You better get out there. She’ll come looking for you soon.”

Diana smiles, and rises from the table, tucking the newspaper in her coat pocket alongside his watch.

* * *

El gives her a brief tour of the grounds - shows her the cattle and the corn crop - before losing interest, and leading her to what she calls a “very special place”.

After about five minutes of walking, Diana speaks.

“Where are you taking me?”

“We’re almost there,” El promises. “And I told you, it’s a special place.”

They walk for a few more minutes, and then come across a small river.

“What is this?” she asks.

“Owl Creek,” El tells her. “Me and Steve used to come here when I was little and play. It’s not deep enough to swim, but we would wade in it when it was summer, and he taught me how to skip stones on top of the water. Do you know how?”

“I don’t. Will you teach me?”

“Of course,” El says, and gets to work finding smooth stones to try and throw.

The talent comes rather easily to Diana, as most physical capabilities do to her, but she tells El it’s because she had such a good teacher.

El shrugs.

“Well, my brother taught me, so that must mean he was a good teacher.”

Diana smiles softly, and nods her head.

“Yes, it does.”

They spend a few minutes like that, quietly skipping stones together, memories of Steve running through their minds.

“I know you weren’t my brother’s secretary.”

Diana freezes.

“In one of his letters,” El continues, still skipping stones, “he said the name of his secretary. Dorothy must not remember, but I do. Her name was Etta something. Candy, maybe?”

Her stomach drops. She doesn’t know what to do, so she waits. Waits for El to yell at her, to scream for help, to run back and tell Dorothy.

But she simply stands there, looking out over the river. Diana decides to mimic her calm behavior, and skips the next stone in her hand.

“Why didn’t you tell you sister?”

“Because I knew she would tell you to leave,” El says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Maybe she should have made me leave,” Diana tells her, panic beginning to creep into the edges of her voice. “Maybe that’s not all I’m lying about. Maybe I never even knew - “

“You knew him,” El interrupts. “I know you did. I can tell.”

“How?” she asks.

“By the way you looked at that picture of him in the paper.”

She feels the pressure of tears behind her eyes again.

“How did I look at him?”

“Like you love him.”

She closes her eyes, but a tear still manages to escape the corner of her eye, falls down her cheek and catches the line of her jaw.

“I did love him,” she whispers. “I still do.”

“And that’s how I know you’re a good person. I mean, I could tell even when I met you, because I’m good at reading people. But I can tell even more now. If you knew my brother, and love him, you have to be a good person.”

Diana opens her eyes, and the liquid in them shines in the early evening sun.

“I knew if I told Dorothy you were lying,” El says, going back to skipping stones, “there’s no way she would’ve let you stay. Even if there was a good reason for your lying. Maybe you were a spy, too.”

“I’m not quite a spy, but I did fight alongside your brother in the war,” she reveals.

“How? I thought women weren’t allowed to fight in the war.”

“Where I come from, girls are trained in fighting from childhood, to prepare them to defend themselves and the people around them.”

El considers this, tilting her head to the side.

“That sounds pretty amazing.”

“It is,” Diana confirms, a light laugh escaping her chest. “It’s pretty amazing.”

They look at each other, an understanding forming between them.

“I won’t tell Dorothy that you’re not Steve’s secretary. It’ll be our secret.”

Diana nods, placing a finger over her lips. El chuckles.

“Besides, she’s taken a liking to you now. We don’t want to ruin it.”

“I didn’t think she was going to let me in the house when I first knocked,” she admits.

“Nah, Dot’s not that tough,” El tells her. “She pretends to be, especially since Steve died, but inside she’s a softie.”

“I thought she hated when you call her Dot,” Diana teases.

“No,” El says, getting quiet. “That’s just what Steve used to call her, so she’s...sensitive about it now.”

“Oh,” she murmurs.

El smiles slightly, and turns her head down, her long blonde hair falling into her face.

“He used to call me Ellie.”

Diana takes a step towards her, reaches out her hand and gingerly places it on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, El.”

She feels the weight of his watch in her pocket, more heavy than normal. Hesitantly, she takes it out, looking it over, swiping her thumb over the glass.

El looks up, sees the watch in Diana’s hands. Her eyes widen.

“My dad gave that to my brother when he left for the war. How did you get that?”

“Before he died,” she begins, “your brother gave it to me. And I cherish it. I always keep it with me, no matter where I am or what I’m doing. It reminds me of him and everything he showed me.”

“It’s important to you,” El says.

“Yes, but...you can have it, if you want it.”

“Don’t you want it, though?” she asks, confusion coloring her features.

“I do,” Diana admits, “but you were his family. His sister.”

El looks up at her, and then reaches out and takes the watch. She turns it over in her hands, and then hands it back to Diana.

“No,” she tells her, shaking her head. “You take it. He gave it to you, which means he cared about you a lot. Probably loved you. Which means you’re his family, too. Plus, you need something to remember him by.”

Taken aback by the young girl’s kindness, Diana takes back the watch.

“Thank you, El.”

“You’re welcome. Now, come on. Dorothy’s gonna be looking for us. Supper is probably almost ready.”

She takes off towards the house, and Diana watches her leave. She places his watch in her coat pocket once again, feels comforted by weight and how it balances her.

Then, she follows El.

* * *

The three of them have a nice dinner together - steak and mashed potatoes and corn. They speak on and off, the sisters telling her stories of Steve when he was young and mischievous, causing trouble on the farm. Letting the cows get loose. Almost ruining one year’s corn crop. So much. So many memories. They spend more time laughing than they do crying, although the tears do come.

She asks if they have pictures, but they don’t, unfortunately. They never owned a camera growing up. The only ones of him that exist are the ones taken by the military, and that one taken of them in Veld. She doesn’t tell them about that one, though. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever see it herself.

By the time they’re done talking, John has come in from his work, and Dorothy prepares a plate for him. After he’s finished, the four play cards until the dark of night settles outside.

“I really should be going,” Diana says, regretfully. She really doesn’t want to leave. She feels closer to him here, and feels a kinship with all of the people here. A sort of bond formed from the light Steve carried with him through life.

“I’ll drive you back to town,” John offers, and stands up, going outside to start the car.

“Will you come back someday?” El asks hopefully, as the three of them rise from the table.

“I think I will, if that’s alright.”

El nods eagerly as she looks to Dorothy for conformation.

“Yes, you may come back,” the woman says. “We’d be happy to have you. I’d offer for you to stay tonight, but we don’t have an extra room. I don’t want to make you sleep on the floor.”

Diana laughs with Dorothy. The truth is, she would sleep on the floor - even in the barn if they insisted - but she doesn’t want to push her luck this time. There will be other occasions, more visits.

She looks at El.

“And I’ll bring a camera with me next time, so that we can take pictures of all the memories we make.”

She expects El to laugh, or smile. But instead, she rushes forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Diana’s waist.

“Thank you so much, Diana,” she murmurs into the fabric of her shirt.

She smiles gently, hugs the girl back, runs a hand over her long blonde hair, smoothing it.

And she feels a tiny bit of the gaping wound in her heart begin to heal.

“Always,” Diana murmurs to her.

“Okay, El,” Dorothy groans playfully, “let her go.”

El squeezes her tighter for a moment before letting her go.

“Why don’t you go get Diana’s coat from the bedroom?” Dorothy asks the girl, and El turns with a drawn-out ‘fine’, taking off down the hall.

“I’m sorry that my Dad couldn’t visit,” Dorothy says as the two walk towards the front door. “He’s just...really sick right now, and Steve’s death has only made it worse.”

“I understand,” she assures her. “I wish him good health and prosperity.”

They reach the entryway, and Dorothy leans against the doorframe.

“El told me about the watch,” she begins. “And I agree that you should keep it. Dad told Steve to die with that thing - to take it down with him. If he knew he was going to die, and gave it to you instead - that means something. He wanted you to have it.”

“Thank you,” Diana says quietly. “You truly don’t know what that means to me.”

Dorothy hesitates, and then reaches and takes her new friend’s hand.

“Be well, Diana.”

“You too,” she tells her, tightening her hand around hers for a moment before letting go.

El reappears with her coat. She shrugs it on, reaching into her pocket, where she finds her two treasures; his watch, and now the rolled-up newspaper with his picture in it.

She walks down the steps to the porch after one more hug from El, across the way to the car, still parked next to the barn. She climbs in, where John is waiting for her. The car starts off down the driveway, and she watches the two sisters standing side by side on the porch until they disappear over the horizon.

“You have a nice visit?” John asks her.

“I did. Very much so.”

She puts her hands in her coat pockets when they pull out onto the road, finds the watch and newspaper of course, but she feels something else in the opposite pocket. She pulls it out, looks down, and smirks.

It’s the piece of paper Etta gave her, with his address. She unfolds the paper, now crunched into a ball, and reads the words and numbers written on it one more time.

Trevor Ranch 1202 Owl Creek Lane Meeteetse, Wyoming

“You find what you were looking for?”

She smiles fondly.

“Yes. I think I did.”

A/N: there might be more chapters to this? i'm not sure though. again, let me know what you think!

#wondertrevweek2020 #wondertrev #wondertrev fic #wondertrevnet #wonder woman #diana prince #steve trevor #steve x diana

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